Sins of Another
by TFK-fan118
Summary: He looked like a monster. The DA should not be intrigued by this man covered in Nazi tattoos. Likewise, the new Deputy shouldn't want to unravel her. Yet here they were, secretly meeting and coming undone before one another. Who knew that the strange type of chemistry and sins of their pasts would lead to war in Banshee? A proper redemption story for Kurt Bunker. And Alison Medding
1. Blame It On The Alcohol

I cannot believe there is so little fanfiction with the Banshee fandom. Like what? How can you not know about Banshee? And want to write about it? Come on! That forth season was just begging to be played with. Sadly, wasn't part of the official writing staff. So fanfiction, it is!

I am in no way getting paid to do this. I just want to for my own pleasure. To be completely honest. Anyway, enjoy if it's awesome.

0-0

Alcohol burned. The scent. The taste. It burned. Drinking liquid fire had never been appealing. The thought of alcohol addiction had always confused her. How could anyone stand the taste of it enough to become addicted? Disgusting, in her opinion. But not entirely unbiased. D.A.R.E classes from childhood had stuck with her throughout the years. Yet, here she sat, nursing a shot of… whiskey? Rum? Scotch? Hell, if she knew. To be perfectly honest, she hadn't remembered ordering it. She didn't want to be here. Didn't want to be drinking. She certainly didn't want to be surrounded by victims of a tragedy. And yet…

Alison Medding narrowed her eyes down at the dark liquid. Her palm lightly cupped the glass, as it had been doing for almost an hour. After the first sip, she had resigned herself to drinking the whole shot. At least to muffle the sounds of whimpering and tearful ranting of the other patrons. The whole town had been shaken from what happened, but the people involved—normal people—had been _devastated_. It clearly showed. Alison did her best to ignore the repeated story of how a woman to her right had been _so_ close to catching a bullet in the eye. Or how much _blood_ there had been from a man, sitting at one of the tables behind her.

The funeral had been bad enough. But the introduction of alcohol made it all the more worse. There were no more quiet murmurings of respect for the dead. Now, it was drunken rantings of how 'it could have been me!' Not that Alison wasn't sympathetic to their ramblings. Normal people did not imagine the horrors Banshee, Pennsylvania had hidden in the dark. Being a District Attorney, she witnessed more than a fair share of horrors. Then again, nothing could prepare a person for _experiencing_ them.

Alison squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. God, she just wanted to forget the entire night. She should not have come. She should have drove home, showered, gotten into bed, and hoped for a dreamless sleep. Instead, she was sitting in a bar, glaring down at her drink, and failing to find a purpose in gathering all of the survivors together a second time. Well, not _all_ the survivors. Alison had scanned the bar's occupants several times, not exactly looking for the sheriff, but realizing his lack of presence had been blatantly obvious.

Had he even been at the funeral? Probably, though she hadn't seen him herself. One of his deputies had died, brutally murdered by the ringleader of the hurricane of a tragedy. Last she heard, Chayton Littlestone was still at large. And if the rumors were to be believed, Siobhan Kelly had been his girlfriend. If his look of murderous rage had been anything to go by, that rumor had been true. The morning after had been the last time she had seen him. More than likely, it would be the last time she would see him. Come Hell or high water, she would never step foot into the Sheriff's Department again.

So why had she come? That answered lied with her best friend, Lena Bella. She had rushed to town to pick her up from the CADI and swept her away from the simmering chaos of the aftermath. Alison had been grateful for her arrival. She hadn't been so grateful of her urging to _grieve properly_. She didn't want to grieve. She just wanted to forget. But Lena had never taken no for an answer, and so after much nagging and prodding, Alison had agreed to, at least, go have a drink with the rest of the survivors. Load of good that decision brought. Sure, she had made small talk with Alma, the receptionist at BSD, but for the most part, she remained secluded in her seat at a corner of the bar.

Alison sighed heavily. This little excursion to grieve was for nothing as far as she was concerned. She would tell Lena that she had stayed for two hours, had more than a few drinks, and maybe even tell her that a tear fell. Her best friend would see through those white lies, but ultimately accept the fact that she had gone in the first place. Still, Alison expected a bit more nattering in the future about what had happened. With that thought in mind, she downed the rest of the dark liquor—immediately regretted it—and then pushed the glass away. Down her throat and straight to her veins, the burning sensation filled her as she stood from the barstool.

Grimacing as her eyes watered, Alison headed toward the exit. Vaguely aware of the bar's owner— _Sweets_ , maybe? She couldn't recall as she did not visit this establishment… ever—bidding her a goodbye, she lazily waved back. She opened the door and the cool night air brushed against her face, though it did little to settle the heat that still rushed through her body. Alcohol still burning. She scowled as her feet crossed the parking lot to her car. Maybe she had a bottled water stashed in her trunk. The taste lingered, so she was hoping it would be enough to chase it away.

Just as she was about to open the car door, a voice called out to her. Male and… vaguely familiar. Mostly, she didn't recognize the voice, though. Her body tensed in reaction. She hadn't heard an approach and she had been so focused on getting to her car that she failed to scan the surrounding area like she normally would. "… DA Medding…?" The voice came again, more hesitant. Huh. No one ever called her by title. In a small town where everyone knew just about everyone, titles were pretty much not used often. Alison shifted her attention to the darkened glass of her car window. Could barely make out the reflection. The man must have not been close.

Breathing in slowly through her nose, Alison turned to face the stranger. Her body did not relax upon seeing the face of the one who called out to her. "Bunker," she acknowledged with a stiff nod. His gaze fell to the ground, but only for a heartbeat of a moment. Had it only been a few days since the first time she had laid eyes on him? The utter revulsion she had initially felt towards him was gone. She hadn't been near a _skinhead_ in nearly a decade. She hadn't even heard him speak that first time due to her skin crawling. She had frozen, but on the inside, she had been fighting every instinct within her to remain in the chair. Now, the instincts were muffled. Quiet, but still there. "What do you want?" Alison questioned.

"I… I was hoping to catch you before you left," he replied.

Her eyes studied him, noting the slight apprehension in his features. Was he intimidated by _her_? Honestly, she didn't know how to feel about that. Bunker stood before her in his new uniform, which covered most of his tattoos. Most of them, but not all. The tattoos on his neck were visible, and so were the ones on his hands and fingers. His ink was the mark of a monster. Because of that ink, she had branded him just like the monsters she had encountered previously. _I'm not who you think I am_ , he had said. Perhaps it was true. He seemed to be hiding the tattoos like they were shameful. "Why?" Alison finally asked, realizing that her continued silence caused his apprehension to become more prominent in his eyes.

"I wanted to thank you," Bunker answered.

"What for?"

"For saving my life."

She had known the response before he gave it. Before he had opened his mouth, flashes of her using the shotgun poured into her mind. She had her reasons for doing it. Mostly because they had been alliances in a time of war. Losing assets, even in the form of one person, could have caused that night to go differently. Partially, it had been because of what he had told her prior. It had… affected her, despite the way she had snapped at him afterwards. She had saved him, not only because the alliance needed him, but because an inkling of trust had formed with their exchange of childhoods. It had been a strange, silent moment between them after the Redbone had gone down. It had been a feeling she had never experienced before. It had made her feel prickly, that unknown feeling, and so she had remained silent for the rest of the night. Remained distant from everyone until Dawn broke. But by then, she had been rushed home…

"Thanks isn't necessary for what happened, Bunker," Alison said, mentally shaking the memories away. "Anyone would have done the same, given the situation."

"I know words wouldn't be enough for what you did. Even action would fail, but I should still thank you." His earnest response was enough to cause a grimace. He looked like a puppy, eager to show off a new trick. His expression reminded him of Lena without the visible protruding bottom lip. "I don't think just anyone would have done the same, given what I… look like."

"Don't worry about it." Alison crossed her arms over her chest. "We survived Chayton Littlestone. Now, the only thing left to do is move on. So that's why I say your thanks isn't necessary. After that night, we have nothing to do with each other anymore. Seriously, don't worry about it." Well, now he looked like a kicked puppy, making her feel all kinds of guilt.

"There must be something I can do." It didn't seem like he was going to take no for an answer. "At least… Can I buy you dinner?" His gaze faltered. "Or coffee? _Something_?"

Alison opened her mouth to protest further, but the thought of a meal halted a nearly hostile objection. If there was one thing that could completely and immediately persuade her, it was food— _free_ food. Her traitorous stomach had been like this all her life. She pitied this town if anyone ever discovered they could bribe her with food. "Fine. If you're going to be insistent about it." Bunker looked her way again, surprise and hope in his eyes. She suddenly wondered the color of his eyes. They were darkened because of the lack of light. It had been the same in the CADI. Scowling, Alison waved the thought away. "But after that— _nothing_. Understand?"

"… Nothing to do with each other anymore," he repeated her words, albeit tentatively. "Right. I understand. That's fair." For the first time since the conversation started, he took one step closer to her. "I'm not sure what's open now, but I'm sure we can find coffee."

"No," Alison bluntly told him. She uncrossed her arms and took a step back, finding a bit of comfort in the feel of her vehicle. "I want foo—dinner, but I don't want to eat right now." Her hands fumbled with her purse, keeping her eyes focused on him as her fingers found the pen she had been looking for. She stretched her arm, almost reaching him, but not quite. Uncertain, Bunker held his hand out. Alison released her hold on the pen and let it fall into his awaiting hand. Not waiting for a response, she opened her car door got in. After turning on the engine, she rolled down her window. Clearly, her actions had confused her unlikely, temporary, associate.

"What-?"

"They're not letting me go back to work for a few days because of what happened," she cut in. "Doubt you have that kinda time, _Deputy_." Bunker stared at her, confusion not leaving his expression. Ignoring that, Alison told him her cell phone number. Twice. He hadn't understood the first time. The second time, he had begun writing on the palm of his hand. She put her car in reverse. "Call me when you're free." She released the brake, pulled out of the parking space, and then put the car in drive. She sped away from the bar, hearing the screech of her tires against the pavement.

The further she drove, the more her body relaxed. Finally, she released a heavy sigh. Still, Alison did not bother to turn on her CD player. Perhaps it had been ridiculous to agree to his form of thanks. But, in the end, it would be a win-win type of situation. One, she could get free food. Or two, Bunker could come to his senses within a few days and not call her at all. Either way, she didn't lose anything. The ball was in his court now. She had rid her hands of whatever should happen next.

Now, she could focus. Well, not exactly focus. Focusing would lead to thinking of that night. Hell if she wanted to keep thinking about it. So Alison drove in silence, purposely keeping her mind blank. It wasn't until she pulled into her driveway did she stop and think. After taking the keys from the ignition, she rested her hands and forehead against the steering wheel. Another heavy sigh left her mouth as she closed her eyes. At this moment, she truly wished she was a workaholic that brought work home with her. However, that wasn't the case. She would have nothing to lose herself in for the next week. The mandatory therapy sessions would not be a welcomed distraction.

There was nothing she could do. The sessions were mandatory by order of the mayor. Gordon said he had done it as her friend. As she was the person that helped him muddle through the abyss of the aftermath of his divorce, he felt that he owed it to her to help her as well. Apparently, ordering therapy sessions was the only way he knew how. Huffing at the thought, Alison opened the car door and stepped out. It was a short walk to the door of her home, so short that she still hadn't found the right key. Once finding it, she slowly unlocked the door and entered the comforts of home.

After closing and locking the door, she lazily tossed her purse towards the living room. The thud that followed told her it had hit the back of the couch. Not caring for the specific location at the moment, Alison walked further down the hall, reaching behind her to unzip the back of the black dress. She kicked off her heels, groaning a bit because her toes were no longer confined. She had to remember to throw those shoes away. She hadn't worn the damn things since the last time she had attended a funeral, which had been several years ago.

Her mind was drifting, it seemed. Shrugging the dress off her shoulders, Alison continued to move. Of course, she intended to pick up the discarded items in the morning, but for now, all she wanted was to shower. Completely nude, she finally reached the bathroom. After turning on the light, she wasted no time stepping into the shower. She shut the glass door and turned on the spray of water. She didn't react to the cold, merely stood there waiting for it to heat up.

Showering seemed… almost pointless now. No matter how many times she had washed—scrubbed—she would still feel the blood of Jackson Sperling on her face and arms. Jackson had been a squirrely little shit, who had called her out of her name more than a few times, but he hadn't deserved to die like that. She hadn't deserved to witness that. Breathing through her nose, Alison began to scrub at her skin. Jackson's blood was on her hands, as far as she was concerned. Maybe if she had let him do what he felt needed to be done, he would have done it quickly and easily. And maybe he would have survived the night.

Alison moved the teal loofa across her skin with more vigor. She had tried to take the keys. Jackson had died as a result. Because of her. She had… almost died in the next instant. In her panicked carelessness, she had moved in range of the imprisoned Redbone. If she hadn't tried taking the keys, she would not have let herself become trapped like that. It had been such a long time since she had felt utterly helpless.

Her motions abruptly stopped. Alison frowned, recalling what had happened. She had truly believed her life would end in that moment. Fear, confusion, anger—she had felt those as the breath left her. Then in the next moment, Kai Proctor had appeared in her hazy sight. He had stared, and she had thought he would continue on his way. However, he had shocked her by shooting the Redbone that held her. As she had coughed, sputtered, and tried to get as much air back in her lungs as she could, he had disappeared. The confusion had only increased. Why the _fuck_ did Kai Proctor, the bane of Banshee, come to her aid? Sure, he had swaggered off like he hadn't done a thing, but he still had.

The man had to have known who she was. Had to have known she and the mayor were actively trying to put him away. Still, he had saved her life. _Why_? It made no sense. Certainly he didn't think she would _owe_ him. Like Hell she would even consider kissing ass because he had saved her life. Jackson Sperling—most definitely. Alison Medding—God, no. He would know that. So why? There was no obvious benefit for him. Why had he saved her? Even though the question plagued her mind… Did she _really_ want to know?

" _No,"_ she decided in thought, finally reaching for her body wash. To be perfectly honest, she wanted to stay away from him. Alison poured the creamy white liquid on her loofa. She let the scent and texture soothe her as she gently wiped at her skin. _"I need to get over what happened."_ None of it mattered. Not really. It wouldn't do her any good to mull and wonder. _She_ had survived. That is what mattered. _"Never again… Never again… Never again…"_

A mantra in her head, Alison finished showering. She now felt refreshed, and not just in body. The mantra stayed in her head as she walked towards her bedroom. She didn't mind the water trail she left behind as she made her way. A few water droplets wouldn't be the end for her hardwood floors. The mantra remained as she began to get ready for bed.

Never again. She dried herself with a dark green towel. Never again. She brushed her damp hair into a ponytail. Never again. She put on black panties, and then a large grey T-shirt with a red, white, and blue shield on the chest, star in the center. Never again. She turned out the lights. Never again. She climbed into bed, making sure to wrap herself tightly with the covers. Never again. She shut her eyes, wishing to shut out her mother's mantra now.

Never again.

Never again.

Never again.

Alison Medding cried herself to sleep.


	2. Traitor Here Beneath My Breast

Music blared through her ears, drowning out all outside noises. She had finished her cardio workout maybe fifteen minutes ago. Now, she sat with her legs folded and palms resting on her knees with her eyes shut, allowing her body to relax. She focused on the music and her breathing. Nothing else could draw her attention away now. Alison slowly lowered her head as she breathed in deeply. Admittedly, the past week had been… helpful. Not having to go to work had given her more time to do things she enjoyed. Like naps. And binge watching. Lena had even visited her for two days. They had watched movies, sang, and played video games— all the good stuff they had done when they had been college roommates.

She had to leave, though. Her girlfriend had been a little pissed that Lena decided to spend some of her vacation in Banshee than with her. A chuckle slip out as Alison remembered the conversation her best friend and Jenna had had over the phone. It had consisted of 'I'm sorry. I'm coming back right now. I'll even get you some earrings,' and ' _Wot_?! I don' want no fuukin' earrings!' Jenna had a heavy British accent, especially when irritated. 'Make it a Playstation gift card and we even, yeah?' The call had ended with an exchange of verbal affections. They were both so cute. Still, it had been the end of Lena's stay. It had been good timing, too.

Lena had just been about to start nagging about grieving properly again. She had gotten enough of that with the therapist. The therapist, despite his best intentions, had only caused exasperation. His prodding had only managed to stress her out. After each session, Alison prayed that the whole nightmare would turn into a faded memory. She didn't need a stranger bringing it up so that she could 'work through it.' Fortunately, the sessions had only been every other day, and yesterday had been the last. After the weekend was over, she could finally return to work.

Her music switched to a slow, haunting song. It was a reminder she had placed in her workout playlist to make sure she would calm her body after the intense body movements. It was also a reminder to come out of her near meditative state. Alison cracked one eye open, peeking at the time on her alarm clock, which had been placed on her nightstand. Almost time for dinner. She opened the other eye, and then stood. After stretching a moment, she unclipped her mp3 player from her sports bra.

She shut off the sounds of music and headed for the kitchen. She spied her phone lying on the island counter. The screen was dark, but there was the flashing green light, indicating that she had missed notifications. Probably emails, she thought. Alison passed the counter in favor of going to the refrigerator. She pulled out her earphones and set the mp3 player down on the counter beside the refrigerator. Opening the door, she quickly found a water bottle. Unceremoniously, she twisted the cap off and drank the bottle's contents without stopping. Her mother had disliked when she drank water like that, but to her it had always felt nice.

Sighing out, Alison slammed the bottle on the counter. Hearing it crinkle like it did was satisfying, too. Suddenly, her cellphone's default ringtone rang out, alerting her to a call. She turned, staring at the small device as it lit up and vibrated. Everyone in her contact list had a unique ringtone, so it was a new number calling. She really hoped it wasn't another 'Upgrade today!' type of call. Warily, she picked up her phone and touched the green phone icon. "This is Alison," she spoke her usual greeting. The person sounded like they took a deep breath. Like they were about to start breathing heavy on purpose. Alison scowled. She hadn't experienced something like this before. "Hello…? If this is a prank, you've picked the _wrong_ -!"

"No!" Finally, the person responded. Sounded male, but with that squeaky reply, it might have been a female. Then, he cleared his throat. "No," he said more calmly and in a deeper voice than before. "It's me. I-It's Kurt." Alison blinked once, and then narrowed her eyes. Sure, his voice sounded vaguely familiar, but her brain did not supply a face. Still, this man sounded as though he knew her. "DA Medding…?"

"Sorry. I don't know how you got this number, but clients are to call the office at-"

"I'm not a client… It's… I'm the new Deputy—Kurt Bunker."

"Oh." Then the information actually processed. "Oh!" She had given him her personal number. She had agreed to his… _thanks_. And had forgotten all about it. It felt as though her stomach dropped out of her system. She didn't feel grounded at all. The feeling was similar to her first day in court. God, had it been a horrible day. Alison struggled to calm down and focus. Even so, her grip on her phone increased. "Bunker," she acknowledged. Surprisingly, her voice came out steady. "I didn't recognize your voice. And I suppose I didn't actual catch your given name." With the bullets flying and general life being in danger thing, but she decided not to mention it.

"Right. _Um_ …" He paused as though trying to find words. "Are you free tonight? I convinced Deputy Lotus to take the night shift."

"This is about you thanking me?" Alison grimaced, rubbing at her temple with her free palm. After that conversation, she had hoped he wouldn't feel the need anymore.

"My mom always said to repay debts in any way I could," Bunker stated. "I have to do this."

"Of course you do." The snide remark was out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Anyway. Yeah, I'm free," she answered hastily as to smooth over her previous words. "What did you have in mind?"

"I know a few places around town…" Bunker continued talking, but Alison had stopped listening. Around town? As in _in town_? No. Hell no. Over her rotting corpse. In a small town like this, rumors would go flying even if someone even _glanced_ at the two of them together. There was no way she would spend an hour _at the most_ being associated with a man covered in monster tattoos, just waiting for some ignorant fool to _think_ they put two and two together. Absolutely no way. "… But it's up to you," he finished.

Alison snapped out of her worst case scenario just in time. "You know what? I actually have to think about it," she told him. "Are you calling from your cell phone?" Bunker gave an affirmative. "Then I will text you a time and location." She ended the call before hearing a response. Impolite, yes, but she was beginning to panic. How could she have been so rash? Forgetting about the whole thing had been irresponsible. Because she had forgotten, she did not plan ahead.

She paced back and forth in her kitchen, pressing the back of her phone hard against her bottom lip. She should have thought of this. Should have researched places out of the public's eye. She should have done a lot of things. Now she had a small window of time to come up with _something_. Because she had made an agreement. Agreements were meant to be kept. Alison took in a deep breath, willing herself to relax. This was not a live or die type of situation. She had survived that already. One measly dinner would not be the end of her. She released the air she had been holding back and shut her eyes.

All she needed was a location outside of Banshee. Right… There was a place. It was far enough away from the town, but close enough that she would not be uncomfortable driving to and from the place. Alison opened her eyes again. Yes. It was the perfect place. Small. Friendly staff. Located on the outskirts of a smaller town than even Banshee. No one in town would ever know. With that positive thought in mind, she texted the name and address of the restaurant to the unfamiliar number. The second text consisted of the time and the meet up.

It gave her time to shower, get ready, and drive there. If Bunker arrived on time, she would get there before him. Regardless, they would both arrive after the sun set. That meant fewer patrons. Her phone beeped in her palm, causing her to flinch. Alison looked down at her phone, seeing the notification for a text message. _It's kinda out of the way_ , it said. From Bunker. " _You're_ kinda out of the way." The childish response popped out of her mouth unbidden. Fortunately, she was alone. She texted a better reply.

 _I would advise bringing gas money just in case._

 _Not what I meant._

Alison was surprised he had replied back so fast. She hurriedly texted him again as she walked through her home. _If it's a problem, we can cancel the whole thing if you want_ , she told him. Reaching her bedroom, plugged the charger into her phone. Then set the phone down just as she received his message. A simple _No_ had been his answer. She halted in her movements for just a moment, wondering why he was so adamant that this happen despite the inconvenience. She was being difficult, she knew. Others would have deemed the situation too difficult and went about their lives. Yet Bunker persisted. It couldn't be just because his mother, could it? Well, she, herself, had done lots of things because of her mother, so… Shaking the thoughts away for now, Alison shifted her attention to her closet.

She needed the proper attire just in case things went south.

0-0

As expected, Alison arrived just as the sky shifted from yellow to dark blue. She turned off her bike and removed the keys from the ignition. She had drove her beautiful candy blue motorcycle instead of the car. She had been so proud when she had purchased it. It had taken six paychecks after she had become District Attorney, but the bike had been worth it. She didn't ride it often, but when she did, it was the most relaxing, freeing thing she could do after a stressful work day. Normally, she kept it in her garage. She had taken it out for this little excursion as a quick escape if needed. Her bike was faster than most cars, after all.

Knocking the kickstand down, she tilted her bike a bit, and then moved to get off. She took the helmet—matching the color of the motorcycle, of course—and let it hang off one of the handles. Alison walked towards the entrance of the restaurant, pocketing the set of keys. She didn't bring much with her. Just the keys, a twenty dollar bill, her cell phone, and her ID. Anything else would be troublesome to carry.

Upon opening the door, Alison felt the immediate shift in temperature. The night was a bit hotter than normal, so the air condition was still on. "Welcome to _Grandma's_!" The owner's voice caught her attention. A short elderly woman who's eyes crinkled at the sight of her. "Well, if it isn't Ali! Haven't seen you in a while." The older woman grinned at her, showing a full set up white teeth. Alison found herself smiling back, albeit sheepishly. It had been quite some time since she found herself here. The last time had probably been after graduation.

"My bad, Mrs. Jenkins," she replied with a slight shrug. "If you could just move to Banshee…" The older woman feigned spitting.

"Not as long as that foul man is still alive!" That _foul man_ she referred to happened to be Kai Procter. Alison didn't know the full story, but Mrs. Jenkins apparently would rather burn down her own restaurant than step foot in Banshee, Pennsylvania. Procter's reputation preceded him. But she didn't care. She wasn't going to think about him. "Why are you here so late? Did you get lost again?" Alison shifted uncomfortably, recalling the memory of her finding this place. She had gotten lost on the first trip back from college. Really lost. It had been dark by the time she convinced herself to ask for directions. There may have been gross sobbing involved.

"Not this time," she answered. "I'm… meeting someone here." She noticed the sudden glint in Mrs. Jenkins eyes. "A _colleague_ ," she emphasized with a frown. "I have some time and they did, too. So… here I am." Alison ignored the skeptical hum the old woman gave her. Her eyes darted around the small restaurant, noting there were no other patrons. "So can I sit anywhere?" Mrs. Jenkins gave another skeptical hum, and then nodded, telling her she would bring menus soon. It was still fine. The friendly older woman did not like to gossip. _"It's fine,"_ Alison thought as she walked to the last booth. She sat down with a huff, intentionally choosing the seat that faced the door. She would see Bunker coming. He would see her, too.

Alison breathed out slowly. Another two hours and she could finally put what had happened behind her. Go back to work and move on. She was… looking forward to it. Maybe Banshee would even go back to being a quiet town with only one big menace to deal with. Not likely, though. Then again, Alison had stopped being optimistic a long time ago. Dealing with crime almost every day tended to drain the hope out of a person. But it probably started before she got into law.

Her cell phone suddenly chimed, alerting her of a received message. She removed the cell from her jacket pocket and stared at the screen. The message was from Gordon. He apparently wanted to celebrate her release from therapy by buying her drinks this weekend. She never did tell him that she hated alcohol. _Fight me_ , was her curt reply. Her lips twitched into a smile as she imagined his reaction. Not a minute later, she received another message. _Still mad. Got it._ The smile lingered as she put her cell phone down on the table. She relaxed in her seat and shifted her gaze to the window. She could only see the darkened reflection of the diner. Nothing was visible outside. She hadn't considered that. She wouldn't be able to tell if other vehicles pulled up. Sighing in slight disappointment, Alison ran a hand through her hair. The helmet had caused a bit of a mess up top, she noticed in her reflection. She used the window as a mirror to smooth her hair back in place.

The bell, which hung over the door, rang. It was a signal that someone had entered the diner, but it took Alison a half a second to shift her attention towards the entrance. Somewhere in the back, Mrs. Jenkins called at the standard greeting, along with a 'Be right with you!' The person did not respond because his eyes had already found her. She felt herself tense at the sight of him. Kurt Bunker stood on the opposite side of the diner, staring right back at her. He wasn't in uniform, but most of his skin was still covered. He wore a long-sleeved dark grey shirt, along with dark jeans and black working boots. For the first time, she wondered if his tattoos extended to his legs. Probably, she thought with a shudder.

Bunker seemed hesitant, but he still made his way over to the booth. His movements were stiff and a bit jerky. Inwardly, Alison scowled. If he was going to act like this all night, the awkward atmosphere would not end. She did not want to eat with this person sitting across from her. But… she would endure for an hour or so. That was all the time she would be willing to give. After that… _nothing_.

Alison nodded in greeting, but did not smile. He returned the nod with one of his own before sitting down in the seat across from her. In response, her body sat up straighter, legs moving so that there wouldn't be an accidental brush of their knees. Still, she could _feel_ him. She was hyper aware of the distance between them. Her skin crawled with goosebumps for no other reason than his presence. _"Just an hour,"_ she told herself.

"Hello," Bunker broke the silence that fell between them. He looked her in the eye. Finally. It was then Alison realized that his eyes were blue. Gordon's eyes were bright blue. So were the Sheriff's. Anyone could tell from a glance not matter the light source. But with this man in front of her, his eyes were more hazel blue. At a glance, someone could assume that his eyes were brown. Only if someone were to be paying close attention would they see the blue in his eyes. Alison imagined most people would be distracted by the Nazi swastika at the corner of his eye, though. "Thank you for meeting me."

Alison almost flinched. She had been paying close attention. She should not have been doing that to a person she wasn't going to see again. Her gaze dropped to the table. "Don't mention it… ever." Her voice came out harder than necessary, but she did not refocus on him. She didn't get to see his expression change because of her harshness.

"Understood," he said. The way his voice sounded, however, could not be missed. Bunker's voice had matched her hard tone. The flinch hadn't been contained that time. She clasped her hands tight in her lap, reminding herself that it was only an hour. The Deputy cleared his throat. "I realize you may be uncomfortable because of me," he told her. Alison fought the urge to scoff. "But I assure you… I only want to thank you for saving my life. If you hadn't, coming back home would have-"

His statement was cut off due to Mrs. Jenkins appearing tableside, causing them both to jump and turn their eyes to the older woman. She placed two menus down on the table, smiling. "Sorry to keep you waiting. One of my workers must have…" Her words trailed off as she finally took a good look at Bunker, who swiftly removed his inked hands from the table and in his lap. It was too late, though. The giant swastika had been seen by the elderly woman. She froze, horror clearly written on her face. "Oh my _God_ …!" She took several steps away from the table, causing the Deputy to flinch.

"Ma'am…" His strained voice made Alison shift her gaze back to him. "I understand that my physical appearance may be unsettling, but-" He was cut off again by another shriek of _oh my God_. Alison frowned as she stared, wondering if he had those _reassuring_ words in reserve for situations like these. It hadn't been the first time she had heard them, even if she had barely heard it when she had snapped at him. Sighing mentally, Alison looked towards the panicked older woman. So even white people like Mrs. Jenkins was bothered by the ink. Good to know.

"He's not here to make trouble, Mrs. Jenkins," she said. Both the elderly woman and Bunker turned their attention to her. "This is the new Deputy in Banshee."

" _Oh_! A blatant _racist pig_! _Just_ what the world needs!" The shrieking had yet to cease. Sarcasm only added to making her voice higher pitched. "I am surprised by you, Ali!"

"Calm yourself, Mrs. Jenkins. You know your blood pressure isn't good," Alison advised. She was used to remaining serene and seeing reason even in the face of upset people. Mrs. Jenkins reaction was manageable. The elderly woman sucked in a much needed breath before releasing it. "Bunker…Deputy Bunker isn't what he appears to be. At least, he hasn't _shown_ what normal people come to expect, looking at him. You do not have to trust him, but trust me. He's not what you think he is. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

For a few tense moments, the three were incased in silence. Then, Mrs. Jenkins let out a shaky laugh. She awkwardly moved towards the table again, more so towards Alison. "Of course," she murmured. "You… You would not bring someone like that here." She sounded unconvinced, but still shifted to her professional demeanor, though a bit more hollow than normal. "Can I start you off with a few drinks…?"

"Just a water for now," Alison replied.

"And you… _Deputy_?" Mrs. Jenkins spit out his title. Alison rolled her eyes. Bunker, almost meekly, requested water as well. "I'll be back in a few minutes." The elderly woman shuffled off, but not before throwing a look of concern over her shoulder. Once she had disappeared somewhere in the back, Bunker spoke up again.

"Thank you," he said again.

"I'm sure you're used to it."

"… I expect it. I accept it. I can handle it."

"For Banshee's sake, I hope that's true, _Deputy_." She hadn't spit his title in a mocking way. No. She had only wanted to make a point. "It's going to be hard," Alison told him. "The majority of Banshee—of the _world_ —wouldn't appreciate a Nazi for a cop. So yeah, it's going to be hard. No normal person would trust you." He looked rightfully contrite, but he held her gaze regardless of the facts. "Why did you even become a cop? Why are you suddenly ashamed of having been _one of them_? I just can't wrap my head around it. So filled with hate and _power_ -" Now that, she had said in a mocking way. "-and you just up and quit?"

Finally, he lowered his gaze, unable to look at her any longer. Probably remembering the awful things he must have done whilst he had been under the influence of stolen power. Alison clenched her jaw, willing her own memories not to surface. She didn't come here to think about not being _spared_. The only reason she had brought it up the night of Chayton's siege was… Why had she brought it up? She hadn't told anyone else before. Not even Lena knew. Just her father and mother—and they were both gone now. Why had she told someone who she thought was a monster?

Well, she had been curious. Alison had never stopped to question why a monster was a monster. But Bunker, though he looked the part, did not behave like a monster. He did not show hostility towards her. She supposed she had just used the opportunity to question him. Maybe she told him because telling a secret was normally followed by the other person telling a secret of their own. It had worked, and she had heard how this particular monster came to be.

"I…" Bunker blinked, and then looked her way again. She had almost forgotten about him. "I didn't have power. I only thought I did." He licked his lips, and Alison found herself mesmerized by the action. Not the action itself, but what it meant. He was going to tell another part of his past. She hated herself for wanting to know more, but the last time had… affected her. "What I was filled with was… an illusion." He breathed in tightly. His nostrils flared upon releasing his breath. "That illusion cracked when I was seventeen."

Before he could continue, Mrs. Jenkins appeared again. Alison almost groaned out as the woman set their glasses of water down. Bunker had broken eye contact with her, and was now staring down at the table. Seemingly not noticing, the elderly woman took a notepad out of her apron pocket and asked if they were ready to order. Alison hadn't looked at the menu. Neither had Bunker. But she knew what she wanted. "Do you still have the sunny-side up burger?" she asked. Mrs. Jenkins nodded with a slight smile. "Then I'll take it… with fries."

"Did you want the milkshake, too? Strawberry banana?"

"Of course." She kept the grin to herself, but there were only a few things Alison Medding was always a slut for. Food, milkshakes, and dance crews. If those things were offered, she would not resist. Again, if anyone—besides her best friend—found out she could be bribed with those things, Banshee was doomed.

"And for you?" Mrs. Jenkins redirected her focus on Bunker, without actually looking at him.

"Just fries, ma'am," he answered, only glancing at the elderly server. Mrs. Jenkins let out a scoff as she wrote down their orders. Bunker pressed his lips together, but did not respond. Announcing her temporary leave, the old woman left them again. For several long moments, the two sat in silence. Alison clenched her jaw, waiting for him to continue. But he did look as if he was going to, which grated on her nerves. He had only just begun to tell her more, but now he didn't want to? She felt herself becoming irrationally irritated. "… I can feel you looking at me."

His familiar words caused a visible shudder. Alison swallowed hard and looked away for just a moment, wondering when her body would stop reacting to him. She hadn't relaxed since he had walked into the diner. When she looked back, Bunker had his eyes on her again. She did not look away this time. "Yeah… You seem to be good at that," she murmured. Reaching for her glass of water, she slowly took a couple of sips before placing the glass to the right of her, near her cell phone. "Are you going to finish then? How did your illusion crack?" Honestly, she didn't even care that she had to ask anymore. She _wanted_ to know.

After a few seconds passed, Bunker started speaking again. "The day I turned seventeen, I got my first tattoo," he stated. His right shoulder twitched a bit. "It was a gift. 'Nothing left to fear,' it says. The only thing I had been afraid of was my father, but he no longer mattered, so that's the tattoo I chose." Alison didn't speak. She wanted to hear this story to the end. "It was the first of many, all leading up to my next birthday. One for every month—sometimes two every month. I was... dedicated to the cause." He ignored the slight scoff that came from her lips. "By the time my next birthday came around, I thought to myself that I would be a man. I would be one of them." He narrowed his eyes, but it wasn't exactly a glare. "But I ended up missing a few months. After a rally, I… decided to go home alone. It was the middle of the night, and I took a shortcut. Took it several times before. Had no reason to fear. But that night, I was attacked."

"Attacked…? Why?" Alison asked. Most people wouldn't bother a male teenager. Most people wouldn't see him.

"I… lost my shirt at the rally," Bunker answered. "My tattoos were exposed, but I didn't care. I was high on power—power I thought I had. Nothing could touch me... But... There were five of them. Adult males. Three of them were white. The others were…" He shifted uncomfortably and dropped his line of sight to the table again. Alison rolled her eyes.

"You can say it," she said, almost letting out a huff as well.

"Black," he said uneasily. He cleared his throat and hurriedly moved along. "They beat me so bad. All of them. The pain kept me from blacking out. I thought someone from the rally would find me, maybe my brother would follow me home and discover my body. But no one came. I remember lying there for hours in so much pain. I think I saw the sunrise before I finally lost consciousness."

Bunker was quiet for a brief moment, finding words or remembering the hurt he had been delivered. Alison watched, brow furrowed. A part of her felt his pain. Another part thought he deserved the beating. He had come from a rally, he'd said. Probably not a _fun for all_ type of event. Had the assault changed his mind? He had been young. Naivety tended to die because of violence. Perhaps he saw the light? Or perhaps he sought vengeance. "Did your brother find you eventually?" she questioned. Bunker shook his head.

"Someone did—just not who I expected. It was a police officer," he replied. "He took me to his house. His wife, Kendra, took care of my injuries—she was a nurse. I couldn't open my eyes for a little more than a week." Damn. She could only imagine what he had looked like. Probably smelled bad, too. "I didn't realize who had taken me in until the bandages from my eyes were removed. She was black, Jamaican descent, accent was barely there, though, so I didn't know. The cop—he was white. They had a seven-year-old daughter. The wife's grandfather lived with them."

"Bet that made you all sorts of ungrateful," Alison remarked.

"It… It did," he agreed. "But I had already been with this family for two weeks. Not including the days I was unconscious. After a while… and a lot of arguing… I convinced myself that they had helped me when no one else did. I convinced myself that it was okay to accept their help. And I stayed for another three weeks."

"Why didn't they just take you to a hospital?"

"Hospital would have asked questions, is what they told me," Bunker replied with a shrug. "Found out later that the police officer—Officer Graham Miller—didn't want to stir trouble by having the people I associate with find out what happened to me. The Brotherhood would have retaliated."

Alison moved uncomfortably in her seat. There was a thought. She had had it many times in the past. Still, there had been no retaliation. She knew the monsters wouldn't just let her be, but… they had. She had believed she had escaped that life with no consequences. But what Bunker had just said made her question things all over again. There would have been some type of backlash, and yet there hadn't been. Why…? Alison cleared her throat, going for another sip of water. "How long did you end up staying with that family?" she asked, pushing back vile memories.

"It took a few months for my body to heal. I stayed… longer." Bunker visibly swallowed. His hands came up from his lap, fingertips lightly touching. A nervous habit, maybe? "I… started to… like them more. Especially the little girl. She… She trusted me because she didn't understand what the tattoos meant. Her parents were wary at first, but she liked me from the start. The old man did, too, but he was blind." His fingers clasped together. "She called me Captain Kirk because she misheard my name the first time." A slight smile touched his face, and Alison found herself tense for a completely different reason even if she didn't understand the reference. "It was… nice being there with that family. The Brotherhood was about having respect and loyalty, but for the first time in a long time, I felt love."

"Love…?" Alison whispered. She almost didn't believe what she was hearing. He had been changed by this biracial family, it appeared. Something he had been conditioned to hate, he had ended up _loving_?

"I didn't call it that back then, but yeah… I loved them," Bunker confirmed. The slight smile had turned into a tight frown. "I left them eventually, all healed up, and returned to my _real_ family, who thought I just needed time to myself, so they didn't ask questions. … I kept going back to them—to the Millers." He released a deep breath. "Going to rallies, getting tattoos, gaining more approval with the Brotherhood—and yet I still went back. Being with the Brotherhood became like a job. Because after all those things were over, I would go to them. Relax, have fun, eat dinner. The parents let me sleep over sometimes. I even used to walk their daughter from the bus stop when I could. Stay with the grandfather when I could. He liked when I read to him. I helped out around the house when I could. I was taught how to cook. How to fix a car. They trusted me. I trusted them. It was nice."

"And yet you kept going back to the Brotherhood, participating in their mutual hate? What for?" Her question came out harsher than intended. More like a demand then a simple question.

"I foolishly thought I could have both." Bunker looked so remorseful that Alison did not mind drumming of her heart that had reached her ears. The slight crack in his voice told her this would not be a happy ending. "With them, I felt happy. With the Brotherhood, I had respect. I wanted both the power and the love. So, for a time, I went back and forth. Then… About a month before my birthday, I walked to their house. Normally, I'd take the bus, but I knew none of them would be home by the time I arrived because of some type of meeting at the daughter's school—the grandfather went, too. Anyway, I walked, but they still weren't there, so I waited. I…" He stopped and shut his eyes for a moment. "I didn't realize I had been followed. He didn't follow me out of suspicion. Only curiosity. He didn't see much. Just me waiting for the family to return home. He found out who lived there, though. He thought I was _planning_ something for them."

"He…?"

"Some guy named Hondo. I didn't really know him, but he knew me. He was part of the Brotherhood," Bunker supplied. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Alison didn't know why. "Apparently, he had a deep hatred for mixed families. He… burned down their house and told me _Happy Birthday_." His hands interlocked so tightly, she thought his bones might break under the pressure. "It wasn't until later that I found out the daughter was in the house at the time of the fire. She had been sick, so she had stayed home with her great grandfather that day. They both died." She didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to think. So Alison remained quiet, watching tears gather in his eyes. "I tried to explain what happen. I tried to shift the blame, but the mother… she smacked me across the face, screamed at me. Wouldn't accept an apology." His voice had become a void. Like he wasn't in the diner. Like he was standing across from a woman who had lost her child. "She said I would always be _one of them_. Officer Miller, completely stone-faced, said he never wanted to see me again. A man and woman who had become like parents to me had banished me from their lives."

Bunker breathed sharply through his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut. Alison had an urge to reach across the table and touch his clenched hands. She should not be having those types of urges with this man. But damn. At the time, he had been just a kid. Just a boy. An image of another boy flashed through her mind. _"No…!"_ she told herself. She would not think about him. Never again. "What did you do?" Alison asked, softly.

"I…" A shaky breath left him. He wiped at his eyes, not allowing the tears to fall. "I waited a few days before trying to contact them. I figured they just needed time to grief. _I_ had grieved, so… when that was over, I tried to call the police station. I found out that they had moved. Moved out of Banshee—to a different state altogether." He finally opened his eyes again, but his gaze did not meet hers. Still, she could see that the whites of his eyes had become slightly red. "I became numb. I threw myself into the Brotherhood after that. And I finally became _one of them_."

"That didn't stop you? _Seriously_? You-"

"It's hard to walk away from all you know. I had already lost one. I wasn't prepared to lose the other."

Alison let go of the sudden anger. What he had said made sense. His actions had made sense, given the situation he had been placed in. He had been just a boy thrown into a horrible situation out of his control. His father. Tank. Hondo. They had all led him down the path of becoming a monster. Hell, even Mr. and Mrs. Miller played a part in it. She didn't like it, but she understood it. Slowly, Alison let out a soft, barely audible breath. "So what changed? What made you leave?"

"You said people don't change."

"They _don't_ ," Alison replied, narrowing her eyes. "You didn't. You just put on an act."

"I would never use that as an excuse for what I've done," Bunker stated. "Who I am will always hate who I was." While that did make her feel relieved—it would be bullshit if he agreed that it had all been an act—it always made her feel a twinge of remorse. She had been openly hostile towards him and subtly afraid. At first sight, she hated him without question. But how could she go on hating when he so obviously hated himself?

"You're not listening, Bunker," Alison said, shaking her head a bit. "You didn't change. You became one of them—one of the Millers—before you became _one of them_ —a monster. You didn't change. You put on a persona for the only _family_ you had left. So again, I ask… What changed _about your situation_ that made you leave?"

0-0

Kurt didn't know what to say. Of course, he knew the answer to her question. It was more that he didn't know how to _respond_ to her. She had… changed her behavior towards him. She had been cold and hard towards him before. As she had every right to be. However, she had also been curious. Now, it was just curiosity. No longer hard at all. Despite the way things should be, he found himself not wanting her to revert back to the cold. This woman, who had saved his life, and by all account should be nervous around him, had _relaxed_ in his presence.

She had been tense from the start, clearly nervous. It had only gotten worse when he had sat opposite of her. Gradually, though, as he told her about the Millers, she had lost her frigid disposition. Kurt supposed he wasn't used to reactions like hers. No one had ever bothered to ask him these questions. People saw the tattoos and were immediately fearful and/or angry. Alison Medding chose to confront him, demanding answers. He hadn't been so completely averse to her having those answers either. He hadn't spoken a word of what had happened to anyone. Maybe that's why the words had come so easily.

Kurt allowed himself a deep inhale before silently letting the air go. He hadn't calmed himself before he had starting talking before. Dangerous emotions had leaked to the surface. He may have been willing to tell the story, but to unlock the emotions behind the memories—he didn't think he could handle it. He opened his mouth to begin again, but the waitress interrupted. The old woman was quite stealthy for her age. Removing his hands from the table again, he watched as the plates were set. Fries for him. Burger and fries for her, along with a milkshake—pink and yellow side by side.

"Thank you." Kurt blinked in surprise. Since he had known Alison, she had never used such a light voice before. Sweet, even. Muffled as it had been, her voice sounded excited. Though she had spoken to the waitress, her eyes had been focused on the milkshake. The waitress said something in return and walked away, but his attention remained focused on the woman in front of him. She tore the paper off the straw and plunged the red tube into her drink. Paying no mind to him, she devoured her sweet drink, smile tugging her lips. Kurt felt the corners of his lips twitching as he watched her.

Eventually, her brown eyes glanced at him. She immediately set the glass back down on the table. The glass was half empty by that point, though. Alison cleared her throat, wiped at her upper lip, and looked towards the window. Just for a moment, Kurt caught a glimpse of embarrassment. She didn't need to be. "Are the milkshakes good here then?" He hadn't meant to ask. Hadn't meant for his voice to sound light. He hadn't meant to tease at all. Still, her head ducked down before she gave a jerky nod. "Maybe I'll order one myself." The corners of his lips twitched again, but she didn't see.

By the time she had returned her gaze to him, his expression had already went back to neutral. "How are things… at the station?" Her question surprised him. Well, all of her questions did really. But he had thought she wanted to know about… the fire. The change. The separation. It could be that Alison wanted to shift the conversation to a lighter topic while she ate. Kurt couldn't blame her for that.

"Slow," he answered her. "It's just been me and Deputy Lotus. The Sheriff hasn't shown his face since the funeral. Deputy Raven won't be back until next week."

"And Chayton?" she asked before putting a few fries in her mouth.

"Still missing, unfortunately," he replied, reaching for the ketchup. Kurt didn't show how surprised he was that Alison had not flinched when he had gotten near. She hadn't even glanced at his hand. It had been a pleasant surprise that lingered on his mind even as he poured the red condiment over his fries. "I hear the FBI will get involved with his capture." She raised both brows. Though her expression was more sarcastic than actual shock.

"How about Alma? Is she doing okay?"

Alma. He knew Alma. The woman avoided Kurt like a disease. She went out of her way to look as though she could only focus on her own tasks. Just so she wouldn't have to speak to him. She even ignored his polite greetings. He accepted the way she treated him. She wouldn't be the first. Wouldn't be the last. "Deputy Lotus tells me it won't be long before she puts in her two weeks," Kurt stated.

"I got that impression, too," Alison murmured, and then took a hearty bite out of her burger. She made a sound of pleasure that Kurt hadn't expected. She went on eating, not knowing that the sound had caused his body to respond in an… uncomfortable way. He cleared his throat, going for his own cup of water. After a few gulps, he set his glass back down, and then shifted his attention to his own food.

"What about you? Are you okay?" He had asked as casual as he could. The last time he had asked about her wellbeing, she had been covered in blood. Not her own, but it had still been blood. She was still a civilian despite her profession. The last time he had asked her, she had given a brisk reply that had had him feeling slight disappointment. At the time, it had only been slight. If she answered the same way this time… What happened between them did not mean as much to her as it did to him. He wouldn't be able to call the disappointment slight.

"I'm…" Alison looked towards the window again. She seemed hesitant. "I'm okay for the most part," she continued. "What happened… Some of its hazy. Some of its vivid. I'll be fine after a while." As little and vague as it had been, she had still admitted _some_ vulnerabilities. Maybe she would even tell him why she had saved his life. He didn't want to push, though. Even if it meant he would never find out. This was only a one time gathering for them, after all. "And you…? Can't imagine you thought your first day on the job would be like that."

"I'm doing okay," he answered, a bit shocked that she would think to ask. "Nothing like that had ever happened in Dade County, but I'm holding up. Banshee has become full of surprises since I've been gone."

"… I guess so." She looked at him for a moment, brow slightly raised as though contemplating something. What, he did not know. Kurt wanted to ask, but Alison focused on her meal. Small talk was over, it seemed, in favor of the food in front of her.

So they ate in an amicable silence. Alison more or less ignored him. Kurt attempted to do the same, but occasionally his eyes would drift back to her or look at her reflection in the window. He couldn't understand her motivations. She had said, multiple times, that this dinner would be the end. They wouldn't have anything to do with each other after it was over. Yet she asked him questions like she wanted to know him. Maybe it was just curiosity and he shouldn't put too much thought into it. Whatever her motivations, this was probably the only time she would allow him near. He needed to stop thinking about her and accept that their association was momentary.

Kurt sighed, pushing his half-eaten plate towards the middle of the table. Admittedly, the thought was more than a little discouraging. Seemingly not noticing his sullen disposition, Alison used a finger to pull his plate more towards her. He blinked down at the moving plate, and then looked up at her. She stared back, almost daring him to say something. With her eyebrow cocked up, she appeared ready to give a rebuttal at the slightest sign of protest.

The meal was for her. Anything she wanted. Kurt felt his lips twitching again as he pushed the plate closer to her. Satisfied by his response, Alison devoured the rest of his fries in a matter of minutes. He was half-surprised she didn't burp in gratification after she was finished. Ordering a milkshake for himself probably wouldn't end up being for himself. He watched her wipe her hands of the ketchup with a napkin, and then her mouth, before leaving the napkin on her empty plate.

Alison bit her lower lip before opening her mouth again. He found himself leaning for slightly in anticipation. She was about to ask him. Kurt knew it was coming, and honestly, he wanted to tell her. However, before she could get a word out, the old waitress came back. Had she been watching them the whole time, waiting for a chance where she can interrupt again? Christ…! Kurt didn't let the agitation show on his face as the older woman asked Alison if she could get her something else.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Jenkins," she replied. Her hand went towards her cell phone, picking up the small device. Her eyes widen, looking at the screen. "Shit…!" The slight scolding from the old woman was ignored. "I didn't realize it was so late." Her brown eyes looked his way for a split second. She frowned as she glanced outside.

"Then is it two bills?"

"Just one, ma'am," Kurt answered, shifting his attention away from the woman in front of him. The old woman muttered something he didn't hear, but then told him the total price for the meal. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his debit card. He handed the card to the older woman, and ignored the way she snatched it from him. She said she would right back before leaving the table again. Kurt exhaled once the old woman's presence disappeared. His eyes easily returned to Alison again. She was in the process of placing her cell phone in her jacket pocket. "What were you-?" he began.

"I'm going to the bathroom!" she blurted, and then started moving out of the booth. Without another word, Alison walked further back, pushing pass the swinging door, which probably led to the restrooms.

After a moment, Kurt sighed again, sinking further into his seat. The moment had been broken, it seemed. When she came back—provided there were no windows she could escape through—either she would sit back down or say goodbye. Probably the latter. Alison would compose herself and realize she didn't need to question his past because his present and future would not consist of her. Another sigh broke through.

Another few minutes passed before the waitress came back, giving him his card and receipt. The old woman gave him a hard look, thanked him for his business, and then went away again. He got the hint. She wanted him to leave as quickly as possible. Kurt shut his eyes for a moment, and then focused on the swinging door. Alison had yet to reappear. Understanding, he made his way out of the booth and stood up. He had gotten half way to the door when her voice stopped him.

"Hey," she had called. Kurt turned to face Alison, and for the first time since entering the diner took in her entire appearance. She looked different. It was probably the clothes she wore. She didn't wear professional attire like he had expected. There was the casual jacket, of course, and it covered the pink shirt. She also wore black, almost skin tight, jeans, and combat boots fit for a woman. He didn't see any jewelry in sight either. It was… just a different look to her. Alison walked forward. "We good…?"

No. At least that is what he thought. She didn't get to—or want to?—hear the rest of his past. It wouldn't matter to her. But she probably wasn't even referring to that. Most likely, she meant his thanks. Was the dinner enough to satisfy him thanking her? Well, the answer to that was also a solid no. Nothing he could do would balance out what she had done for him. Still, Kurt fixed his mouth to give her an answer. "Yeah," he said. "We're good." It had been a lie, but it seemed to appease her, so he said nothing more.

Alison walked by, exclaiming a goodbye to the waitress. The farewell was returned, along with a 'Be careful,' which had something to do with him, he was sure. Kurt followed after the District Attorney a few paces behind. He could feel himself becoming increasingly anxious. This was it. After tonight, he would more than likely never see this woman again. Well, see her, yes, but to actually have another conversation? Not likely.

Kurt swallowed thickly as he watched her walk towards the motorcycle. His eyebrows jumped up in surprise as her hand reached for the helmet. The Honda—a Shadow Aero, if he wasn't mistaken—had been hers? That was… unexpected. Christ, this woman was an intriguing mystery. He… was curious about her, too. She had been asking him questions all night. And yet he hadn't gotten to ask her any questions about herself. Most importantly, he hadn't gotten the chance to ask why she had saved him. She hadn't needed to. The Sheriff would been more than enough. _He_ had fallen too quickly, failing to shoot anything that came through the door. He had practically failed his first day on the job. Yet she had saved him. Why?

"DA Medding…?" His mouth opened before his brain could fully form an excuse. She had almost slipped on the helmet, but she halted at the sound of his voice. She turned her head, but didn't face him. Kurt took the chance to take a few steps towards her. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his feet move. " _Uh_ … I appreciate you meeting me." She nodded curtly, eyes moving up to his face. "I… I know you said-"

"Well, lookie here, fellas!" A new voice had caught his attention. He imagined Alison sharply turned her head towards the newcomer as well. As usual, Kurt felt his body tense. New people met having to give reassurances. The reassurances sometimes had not worked, so his body was ready to defend if need be. He clenched his jaw as three white men sauntered over. Christ, was he so unlucky? Not only were they interrupting, but they were obviously _skinheads_. Like he used to, they showed their tattoos proudly. Their arms were practically covered in ink. Kurt moved closer to Alison. Their intentions were clear. At least, he knew from… experience what their intention would be. Grab the girl. Make her watch. It had been a common tactic. "Didn't expect to see this shit so late at night," the one in the middle continued speaking like the smug bastard he was.

"Good evening," Alison greeted, though her voice was rigid as her body. She gripped the helmet and took a backwards step in Kurt's direction. A part of him recognized she felt safer by his side than closer to her motorcycle. That part of him smile. Still, the majority of his focus was on the trio of men, who clearly had bad intentions. They must assume he and Alison were together. They had to be _punished_ for being traitors to their races. Kurt grit his teeth as his hands formed into fists at his sides. "Can I help you gentlemen?"

Kurt recognized her tactic as well. Politeness despite knowing what these men were capable of. It was a tactic some victims went with to pacify. Never worked. Mostly, it had been amusing and it only fueled the desire to cause harm. "I know a few ways you can _help_ me." The one on the right leered at Alison. He sucked on his teeth. "Maybe more than a few." Anger stirred within him and Kurt could swear he could feel his blood pump furiously through his veins.

"Please," Alison remained calm in spite of the implication. She didn't even take another step back. Kurt wanted to move forward, protecting her from the perverse look she was receiving, but if he moved now, he didn't think he could stop himself from attacking a… a civilian. "We don't want trouble."

"And what if _we_ want trouble?" The one in the middle spoke again. He, too, eyed Alison like he wanted to take her a part. Christ. They didn't intend to grab the girl and make her watch. They intended to grab the guy and make _him_ watch. Pieces of shit, they were.

"Then you're going to _fucking get it_ ," Kurt nearly growled, speaking up for the first time since the trio had walked up. They all turned their eyes to him. While he was glad the attention had shifted from Alison, it also meant they were sizing him up. It would only be a matter of time before they saw.

"I'd like to see you…" the supposed leader of the three trailed off, probably noticing Kurt had similar tattoos. "Holy shit! You're _one of us_!" That stung. More than he thought it would. He had been expecting to be called traitor by the Brotherhood. He was _not_ expecting one of them to call him that. Even though this group didn't appear to be a part of the Brotherhood, he knew there were similar groups outside of Banshee. "What? Did we step on your toes, brother? She your pet for the night? Wish I had a tamed one."

"What did you just say?" Alison practically hissed, clearly offended by the choice of words.

"You heard me, bitch!" he had the nerve to wink at her. "Wanna be my pet next week?"

The woman sharply moved forward, but it was a feint. She didn't actually try to hit the leader. Still, it had been seen as an act of defiance. They saw it as a reason to keep her in check. Alison was backhanded across the face before Kurt could do anything. She stumbled back as the three laughed and jeered, exclaiming she needed more training. To her credit, she hadn't cried out when struck, but… she had gripped her helmet tighter. Then she looked at him. He hadn't been able to read her expression. His eyes had zeroed in on the blood oozing from her split lip.

All logic fled from his mind.

0-0


	3. Why Does It Feel Good, But Hurts Bad?

Shit. She hadn't been hit for so long, she had forgotten what it felt like. It didn't exactly hurt, but she tasted blood in her mouth. Her body had gotten soft apparently. Still, she could get out of this. She had experienced worse odds. Alison sucked in a breath as her eyes met Bunker's. How could she have been so stupid? This was a trap, and she had fallen for it. Again, his words had affected her and she let her guard down. He had probably called or texted his buddies while she had been in the restroom. God, her mother would ring her neck if she knew what she had gotten into. Trusting a monster—even if it had been slight—had been a foolish notion.

Alison squeezed the mouth of her helmet in preparation for whichever one attacked first. It was Bunker. But she hadn't been his target. He had whipped around so fast and sharply punched the one that had smacked her. Her eyes widened, stunned by the other rapid punches dealt to the monster. Bunker so viciously attacked him. They both fell to the ground during the struggle. The other two were clearly shocked by the altercation. Like Hell if she was going to give them a chance to retaliate.

She rushed forward, lifting her right leg. The sole of her boot smashed into the unsuspecting monster's face. She both heard and felt the crunch of his nose. Her insides sang with pleasure as the bastard that had made suggestive comments towards her fell to the ground. "Hey!" The other yelled out, telling her that he was about to attack. Alison sharply turned, narrowing dodging a sloppy punch. She dodged his next two punches by stepping back twice and angling her body away from the strikes. Then she brought her knee to her chest before launching her foot out. It connected with his gut. Nothing but flesh with no muscle to protect himself with. As expected, he doubled over in pain. Alison dropped her foot, and then swung her arm upward. The top of her helmet struck the bottom of his chin, causing his head to spring back.

The third man crumbled to the ground, groaning obscenities. Alison stomped down on his chest, and then swiped her leg, nailing the piece of shit in the jaw. The groaning stopped because he couldn't take the pain. Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind. Her arms were pinned to her sides. Her helmet had fallen from her hand. "Feisty bitch!" Admittedly, he had gotten her, but his actions would easily be outmaneuvered. Her body still shivered in revulsion though. She reared her head back, hard and fast, into his already broken nose.

Alison took a large step forward, harshly twisting her upper body. This threw the idiot off balance and his grip further loosened. She brought her bended arm up, ramming her elbow into his face. His arms completely left her in favor of holding his profusely bleeding nose. A frown touched her face, but inwardly, she felt giddy. The adrenaline coursed through her like a narcotic. It had been such a long since she had felt something like this. Alison breathed in deeply through her nose, and then delivered a powerful roundhouse kick that knocked him down and unconscious.

" _Amateurs,"_ she thought, looking back and forth between the two unconscious monsters. The monsters she had tangled with before had been a bigger challenge. These bastards were probably just pretending with no real affiliation. That was actually a good thing. She did not want to hear about this later on once she returned home.

Her heart raced within her chest as she finally looked back over to Bunker. The man was still beating the crap out of the supposed ringleader. The monster underneath him had long since given up the fight. He lay there motionless, receiving the hard punches to the face. Alison stared, still feeling a bit stunned. Mostly guilty. She had felt betrayed and had immediately thought of him as a monster in her panicked state. That had been wrong of her. He hadn't known them. He had actually… lashed out after she had been hit. A slight smirk tugged at her lips as she continued to watch Bunker pummel away. Was he growling? A part of her thought it was weird. Another part reveled in hearing and seeing his actions. Wasn't that wrong—to feel approval for what she was witnessing?

Still… Nice.

But if he kept on doing that, the monster would die. Death didn't need to be a result of their foolishness. However evil their actions would have been. "Bunker…!" Alison called out to him. His punches did not cease. "Bunker!" A little less calm, she quickly moved to his side and pulled at his shoulder. Her touch managed to do the trick because he let himself be pulled away from the bloodied mess. His breathing was shallowed and jerky. He refused to look away from what he had done. Then Bunker visibly shook before storming off.

Alison watched him go, taken aback by his expression. He had been angry. Way too angry. She hadn't known him long, but that did not feel right at all. Normally, the man was composed and patient. Anger had radiated off him. She could practically feel his rage herself. She swallowed hard as Bunker got into a pick-up truck. It probably wasn't a good idea for him to leave right now. Moving as quickly as she could, Alison headed into the diner. "Call the police!" she ordered a bewildered looking Mrs. Jenkins. The older woman had probably heard and seen some of what went down.

"What the heck happ-"

"The police, Mrs. Jenkins—call them now!" Thinking she had no time, Alison rushed back out. With her eyes focused on the pick-up truck, she almost let out of sigh of relief. Bunker hadn't left yet. He was still sitting in his vehicle. She pressed her lips into a thin line before moving again. She walked past the three bodies towards the truck. She had caught a glimpse of the one Bunker went ham on. And even Jesus wouldn't recognize him. Without really thinking about it, she went over to the passenger side and opened the door. "Bunker."

He didn't acknowledge her. He merely continued to grip the steering wheel like it was something he needed to do. She noticed the way his body trembled as though trying to reel the anger back in. A defense mechanism…? His emotions had gotten out of control. Was this the only way for him to come back from it? He held on so tightly that the material of the steering wheel whined in protest. Drawing in a long silent breath, Alison climbed into the truck and closed the door. She sat there listening to his strained breathing for a few moments before opening her mouth.

"That was excessive," she remarked, turning her eyes to the windshield instead of him. "The police are on their way, but I think I can still call it self-defense." She stopped hearing his breaths. Maybe he had calmed down enough. Or maybe he had just realized she was sitting beside him. Not close. She was pressed against the door, so there was quite a lot of distance between them in the truck. "Did you forget you were a _cop_?"

"I'm sorry," he muttered. His voice had barely been audible. Alison scoffed, glancing his way. He had stopped painfully squeezing the steering wheel, but he did keep his hands on it. She looked back outside. From here, she could see inside the brightly lit diner. Huh. Ignoring it for now, she shut her eyes for a moment.

"I didn't ask for an apology," she replied. "What you did was… valid, and I appreciate it." It hadn't been a lie. She gained a bit more respect for him because of what he had done, especially since she had misjudged his intentions. "Guys like that deserves to be beaten occasionally, but you have to remember your profes-"

" _I am guys like that_!" Bunker shouted, glaring at her. In the compact space of his truck, the shout seemed louder than it actually was. Alison knew that, but her body still recoiled. She pressed herself harder against the door, instincts of flight or fight coming on fast. She swallowed hard, willing herself to calm down. Her body did not relax, though. She just continued to stare back at him, teeth clenched. Eventually, his eyes softened, seemingly noticing what effect his shout had garnered. However, his expression did not change. "Every evil, twisted thought they have had… I have had." He turned away from her, so he did not see her face screw into horrified realization. "Every fucked up thing he has done, _I_ have done."

That's right. He looked like a monster. He had behaved like a monster—most likely for more than a decade. All that doesn't just go away just because he suddenly chose to regret it. Bunker might not be evil, but he had done evil shit. She couldn't forget that. Never. Then a terrible thought occurred. " _Every_?!" Alison fiercely repeated. Bunker turned to her, brow furrowed. Then his eyes grew wide, equally horrified.

"No!" he exclaimed. She sucked in a breath, hoping her heart would calm down. She did not care for the stray tear that left his eye. No. No. She should not be this close to him. Never again. Never again. Never again. "Please! I did not ever do _that_ …" His voice had become muffled to her ears. The chant and her heartbeat nearly drowned out his words. "DA Medding… Not that. Never that."

"I don't believe you!" Alison spat. He flinched, but she did not feel guilt. But she did notice the tremors had stopped. Apparently, they had transferred to her. She couldn't stop the shakes, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from him either. Even the slightest movement on his part would make her instincts completely overwhelm her. For several moments, they remained quiet.

"If… If that were true," Bunker hesitantly began. "You wouldn't still be here."

" _Fuck_ you." Her hissed out words caused him to flinch again. Damn him, though. He was right. On some level, she believed him. She trusted him enough to be near. Alison realized this, but she didn't very well like it. When had an inkling of trust turned into sharing a seat with him? Sharing _dinner_ with him? Bunker became quiet, allowing her time to get herself together. She didn't know how long they stayed silent, but it was enough to have her body become mildly relaxed.

"I know I will always be… a monster," Bunker started. "Putting on that uniform every day will not wipe my slate clean. I have done things that would make you sick—that make _me_ sick—but that _type_ of evil, I wouldn't inflict on anyone." Alison bit her lower lip and exhaled shakily through her nose. "I am doing everything I can to change. I want to _prove_ that I can be a better person. Every once in a while, I manage to convince myself, but the minute I come into contact with one of them—those _fucking_ bastards—and see the way that look at me-" His voice shook with repressed emotions. Tears slipped out of his eyes more freely now, but he did not wipe them away nor did he shift his gaze. She watched them fall, suppressing her own inner turmoil. "-all I feel is… hate. And anger. And I can't shake it."

Bunker had begun shaking again. His breaths came out in shudders. Alison could see that he was quickly losing himself in whatever self-loathing memory his mind had conjured up. He turned away from her, hands tightly holding the steering wheel again. For the second time, she had the urge to reach for his hand. Now she knew why. She saw herself in him. This state he was in now—it was how she used to be. She had wanted to comfort him because she had to comfort herself.

"Bunker, that's not hate you're feeling," Alison began. "You're _ashamed_." He still didn't look at her, but his grip on the wheel lessened. "You're feeling that way because you feel guilty about what you've done. When you see guys like that, it's a reminder of your shame. It's a reminder of your failure. It's a reminder of the power you've lost." He finally took his hands from the wheel to wipe at his eyes. "I can see through you now. You're not a monster… but you're not a man either." Bunker paused for a second, and then looked at her, eyes questioning. "You're _weak_ ," she told him. "You let the mere sight of seeing one of them control you. Your power is lost. Until you get it back, you'll always be this cross between the man and the monster. And they will always control you."

"My power…?" he murmured. "My illusion?"

"Power of will. Power of _self_ ," Alison corrected. "I lost my power… the night I lost my innocence. I was a… husk, and then I wasn't. But I spent years thinking I could get the power back from the monsters who stole from me." Flashes of violent fury passed through her mind. She shook her head to rid herself of them. "I spent years letting that anger and hatred consume me. I wasn't… _me_ until I took back my power." She held his gaze as lifted her right leg and turned to face him. "If I can take back my power, I'm sure you can, too. Become who you truly are instead of a fusion between monster and man."

"Why… Why are you telling me this?" Bunker asked. Alison bit her lower lip, turning her eyes away for a moment. Honestly, she wasn't ready to tell him that. She was barely able to admit it to herself. Despite their circumstances, an unlikely bond had formed, maybe even before this point. Whenever it had formed, it was a marvel—one she wasn't so willing to part with now. Jesus Christ…! If her parents could see her now…

"You are a Deputy. I am the District Attorney. I can't have an officer of the law self-destructing. We're on the same side, right?" It had been a half-truth. Something to appease his curiosity for now. He didn't need to know the _whole_ truth. Bunker slowly nodded his head, and then breathed in through his nose. He must have calmed down fully. Good thing, too. Her eyes had just caught the red and blue lights of a police cruiser out the back window. "Now dry your tears before the police think I beat your ass, too."

She had said it in an offhand way, so it came as quite the shock when laughter burst from his mouth. He looked at her with his eyes crinkled and a lingering smile. It was as though all the tension had left his body. It was bizarre to be witnessing a person you didn't know smile for the first time. Smile genuinely for the first time like they hadn't smiled in years. Tickles of hot and cold flowed over her skin. It was that same prickly feeling she had before at the CADI, but more… potent.

Once again, her response to the unknown feeling was silence. She turned in her seat again, facing the right way. She bit her lip, fingers reaching for the door handle. The police had made it to the parking lot by now and she needed to quickly come up with something that would smooth all this over. "Thank you, DA Medding," Bunker said to her as she opened the door. Alison offered a nod, but no more words. For some reason, her mouth wouldn't open. She stepped out of his vehicle, mentally preparing herself to speak with the authorities. Her eyes glanced at the crumbled bodies. Maybe she should have told Mrs. Jenkins to dial for an ambulance… Anyhow, the police were here. It was time to work. Even so, a foreign smile nestled in her brain and remained.

"What a d _orky-ass grin,"_ Alison commented in thought as she waved to the officers.

0-0

He kept looking at his hands. The kid, no older than nineteen, stared unapologetic between his hands and his face. It was understandable. Kurt's knuckles were still bloodied and his ink was eye catching. He could only imagine what was going through the head of the clerk. "So, like…" The boy finally stopped chewing. For a second. "If you chop somebody up in the room, could you make it a bit less messy? Like, use the tub or something? My dad makes me clean instead of hiring housekeeping." Kurt grimaced. He understood what his appearance may look like to strangers, but that response had been a little more morbid than what he was used to. And indifferent.

"I understand my physical appearance may be-"

"Yeah, don't care—just use the tub." He slid the keys across the counter. Kurt had to grab the keys before they fell over. "The room is the last one. Please return the keys to the front desk before you leave. Have a nice night." He finished by popping the blue gum. Forcing the scowl from forming, Kurt thought about reassuring the kid that he wasn't going to be _chopping_ anyone up, but thought better of it. Alison was still waiting out in the truck. So, sighing, he turned away from the counter and headed out the door.

They were stuck in this little town, almost an hour away from Banshee. The reason for their continued excursion had to do with the officers that had arrived on scene. Alison had done her best to quell their concerns about what had happened. Her story would have worked had it not been for them seeing what Kurt had done. The minute they had seen the leader of the trio—and then him—the officers had wanted to bring them in for questioning. The only reason they had not been brought in immediately had been because of the old woman. She had seen everything. Plus, apparently the bastards liked to cause trouble for Mrs. Jenkins every once in a while. They had decided to do so because the woman had hired a chef who had been of Asian descent. And according to Alison, she had dated a few _Black Panthers_ back in the day and everyone in the town knew about it because the old woman bragged. So the officers had allowed them to go with a promise to come down to the department in the morning.

Alison had argued that she did not intend to drive back to Banshee just to come back a few hours later. That had been when one of the officers, the younger one, told them they could stay at the only inn in town, which happened to be close to the police station. She, probably exhausted, just resigned herself to staying. The officers had given directions before leaving them. It had been a silent moment once they were alone. Alison did not have enough money to buy a room. She hadn't needed to ask, though. Of course, Kurt offered to pay for it. Part of his thanks, he had told her. Secretly, he had been relieved. He hadn't needed to come up with an excuse anymore.

Kurt approached the passenger side of his truck, holding up the set of keys. Alison acknowledged his purchase with a nod before opening the door. At the diner, he had hauled her motorcycle on the back of his truck. It laid flat on its side. She had grimaced and whispered for him to be careful. He hadn't blamed her. Her bike was a beauty, but he did not have anything to keep the motorcycle in an upright position, so he had no choice but to lay it on its side. Alison had kept a hold of her helmet, but she had left the truck without it now that he had confirmed their room.

The truck door slammed shut, echoing in the silent night. Kurt cleared his throat just as Alison reached him. "There are two beds," he told her. He saw her bite her lower lip. She was probably nervous about sharing a room with him. Of course she was. With what she had been through… and him looking like… like a _monster_ … There was no doubt. Obviously she would be uncomfortable with the arrangements. However, he didn't have the funds to buy two separate rooms. He hadn't even received his first paycheck yet. Maybe they should have discussed it on the drive over, but to be honest, his mind had been blown learning about Mrs. Jenkins and the few Panthers she dated. Kurt swallowed, pursing his lips. "I can… sleep in my truck if-"

"Don't be stupid," Alison cut in, taking the keys from his hand. Her eyes examined the tag, and then she started walking. He followed behind her, watching the way she walked. Strong. Confident. He hadn't noticed before, didn't really pay attention. He couldn't help but notice it now. She didn't look like a woman that had her innocence taken at the age of sixteen. She had truly gotten back her power. Kurt could see himself admiring this woman. No. He already did.

Alison found the door. Like the apathetic worker had said, it was the last room. Quickly, the lock was disengaged and the red door opened. Kurt made a face, practically tasting the stale air of the room. Seemingly not minding, the District Attorney walked in. It wasn't until she found the light and turned it on did he step inside as well. He did not want to make her more uncomfortable than she already was by standing near her in the dark.

Kurt watched her as she set the keys down on the dresser. She then went over to the bed furthest from the door and sat. Alison didn't bother to address him again whilst she lowered her torso to remove her boots. Realizing that his staring might be considered creepy, he averted his gaze to the bed closest to the door. She had apparently claimed her bed already, so he supposed he should do the same. He sat down, noting the air conditioning unit was turned off. He fiddled with the controls until it kicked on.

By the time musty air blew in his face, he heard a door shut. Kurt looked back to where Alison had been to discover her gone. He only glanced at white door before deciding it lead to the bathroom. He would give her the privacy she needed. In the meantime, he looked around the room. Simple in design with matching red bedspreads—floral print with blue, gold, green, and purple stitching. It almost hurt to look at. Kurt sighed through his nose. There wasn't a television in the room, so distracting entertainment was off the list. He doubted either of them would really want to watch anything at this hour anyway.

Kurt went over to the wooden nightstand that was in between the two beds. It had a lamp on it, along with a phone, a notepad, an alarm clock with glowing red number, and a pen. He opened the top drawer to find a large black bible. The second drawer had nothing in it. Unimpressed—though he had slept in worst inns than this—he flipped the switch on the lamp, providing more light. Even though they would both be heading to bed soon. Releasing another sigh, he sat down on his bed. He didn't realize how tired he was until his body had relaxed. That's when he heard the creak of the bathroom door as it opened. Lifting his head, he saw Alison walk out without turning off the light. In her hand, she held a small white towel as well as a first aid kit. She walked over to him, stretching her arms. "Th-Thank you." Kurt took the items, noting the towel was damp as he set down the first aid box beside him.

"No problem," Alison muttered as she sat opposite of him on her bed. With a slight grunt, she removed her jacket, revealing the thin straps of her shirt as well as the dark blue straps of her bra. Kurt immediately averted his gaze and focused on wiping the blood from his hand. "Don't overdo it, Bunker. It won't heal properly like that." He stopped, hesitantly meeting her gaze. "The way you went at him, there's no way his teeth didn't get you. Slow down."

"Yeah," Kurt said, and then started wiping again more gently than before. He gestured to her with his head. "Are you okay?" She blinked, and then lightly pressed a finger to her split lip. Alison nodded slowly, telling him that she had had worse. How much worse? But he didn't ask. The altercation hadn't shook her and she even took out two grown men whilst he had been distracted by just the one. "How did you manage to incapacitate two men?" he questioned instead.

"My mom," she answered, though her voice had been grim. She stared down at her lap for a moment. "Took some self-defense classes, too… But mostly, I watch too many actions movies." Not expecting that last bit, Kurt chuckled lightly. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Bunker." She tried to look annoyed, but there was a lightness to her expression that had replaced her grim tone. It seemed like she had become almost completely at ease. Compared to the way she had been in the diner, her behavior now was startling. But he couldn't say he didn't like it. Alison had made him laugh twice now. It felt strange to hear and feel his own laughter after so long. A deep rumble in his chest that spread through his body—a real laugh. "Do you know how to wrap that?"

Kurt looked down at his mostly clean hand. She had been right. The fucker's teeth had sliced into his skin in several places. He flexed his fingers and frowned. It wasn't painful, but it stung every time he moved his fingers. _"Worth it,"_ he thought, narrowing his eyes. He tossed the damp towel on the nightstand, and then began fiddling with the first aid kit. Alison stood from her bed, drawing his gaze back to her. She took the first aid kit, and then sat down beside him. Kurt could only look at her, stunned into silence.

"I know how to wrap," she explained, focusing on removing ointment and gauze from the first aid. She set the kit down beside her, and then shifted her body towards his. Their knees almost brushed against each other. Christ…! They had gone from sitting across from each other to sitting beside one another, and now they were nearly shoulder to shoulder. Kurt could not understand how the distance between them had decreased in such little time. He wished he knew what was going on in the District Attorney's head, but he was not going to comment aloud.

Alison tentatively reached for his hand. He noticed the way her fingers curled, though, as if she had second thoughts about touching him. Still, she lightly took his injured hand and began applying the ointment. Kurt's eye twitched, holding back a wince. Her fingertips were gentle, but the ointment was cold. Well, that's what he would tell her if he couldn't hide the grimace. "Something else you got from movies?" he asked. He understood the lightness of his voice. He was teasing her, this time intentionally. Alison glanced at him, eyes holding mock annoyance.

"Trial and error, actually," she corrected, returning to her task. After a few more coats of ointment, she started to wrap his hand. "Hospitals would have asked questions." She was teasing him back, he realized. But… It was ominous. He had heard those same words when he had been recovering from the worst beating of his life. Had Alison gone through the same? The way she had said it, too… Trial and error. It had happened multiple times for her to learn how to wrap properly.

"What happened to you?" Kurt asked. She ceased all movement. If he didn't know any better, he would assume that she had stopped breathing, too. "DA Medding…?" She flinched, and then stood up. Not knowing what else to do or say, he merely watched her. It had been a personal question. He probably should not have asked her. Alison took in a shaky breath before moving to sit on her bed across from him. Her fingers gripped her knees, gaze focused on the floor.

"After… I wasn't spared, I stayed in my room," she began. Her teeth grazed her lower lip, and then her eyes slowly met his. "I wouldn't talk. Didn't eat. Screamed a lot in my sleep. I stopped going to school. Wouldn't let my friends console me. The officers investigating said I got off easy. Said that I could have ended up like my father. Their careless comments made it worse." Alison inhaled slowly, shutting her eyes for a moment. "Basically, I stopped being a person. Stopped being _me_. It went on like that for—I want to say—four weeks." She bit her lip again before continuing. "Then one day… my mother practically dragged me out of my room. She forced me in the car and just drove." Her brow furrowed as he eyes became distant. "I don't remember where she took me. It was the middle of nowhere, I know that. This wide open field, miles from the road. I remember walking so far away from the car…"

Her brown eyes glazed over completely. She had become lost in her own memories. Strange. She hadn't become so disconnected while talking about the aftermath of her assault. It was as if those memories didn't matter anymore. Or… whatever she was about to say paled in comparison. Kurt shifted, subconsciously moving forward. His movements seemed to jerk her out of her thoughts because she blinked, and then focused on him again. "Did she say anything to you?" he asked. Alison squeezed her eyes shut before answering.

"Not on the car ride over. And not during the long walk either," she stated. "No… My mother stayed silent through it all. Once we stopped walking, though… She said 'Never again.' Just that. Then she punched me. Really hard. Over and over and over again." Not expecting that at all, Kurt stared, feeling the shock over all. Alison didn't seem to notice his reaction. "I had no idea my mother was so strong. No idea she could break my body like she did. She didn't stop until all I felt was pain. Confusion. Fear. Betrayal. Yeah, I felt those, but pain is a hell of a replacement because I didn't feel anything else after a while."

Kurt couldn't imagine. Even when he had been beaten so severely, he still felt other things besides the pain. As immense as it was, there had been anger and fear, too. Anger at the ones who had left him to die. Fear of dying. Even a sliver of hope that it would all end just to stop the hurt. But the way Alison spoke, she had been numb to everything but the pain. "Christ…" he muttered out loud. Just how long had the beating gone on for?

"You think that's bad?" she asked, frowning. "My mother wouldn't let me fall unconscious. She had a handheld Taser. Every time my body tried to save me from the pain, she would use it to bring me back to the beating she inflicted." Her gaze lowered again. "Five times a month, she would take me back to that place. Just as my body was beginning to heal, she would take me there and do it all over again."

"Why? Why would she do that to you?" Kurt questioned, still reeling from what she had told him. His childhood had been far from original. He knew that other children suffered abuse from their own parents, but this was different. And yet just the same.

"To break me," Alison replied, looking back at him. "I was a husk, Bunker. She saw that and broke me in order to fix me." His skepticism must have shown on his face because she shook her head and continued talking. "I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't child abuse. My mother loved me _so much_ that she refused to let me go through life a victim. It worked. Eventually, I fought back. I stopped behaving like a punching bag—a victim—and I fought back. That is when she said it again after all that time. _Never again_. And I realized what she meant. Never again will I be a victim. Never again will I watch the people I love bleeding and helpless. Never again will I be broken."

It was… a lot to take in admittedly. _Wisdom comes only through suffering_ , he remembered. Alison Medding had gone through a lot of suffering, it seemed. Maybe more so than himself. And at the hands of her mother. His dad never actually broke him. The abuse was just abuse. There had been no other purpose behind the strikes. His dad certainly hadn't done it to _fix_ him. Before Kurt had thought of himself as his dad's personal punching bag, Tank had stepped in. He had thought of himself as a protector, really. Calvin had been young and vulnerable, and as the older brother, Kurt had to take the beatings to save his little brother. A shield. Not a punching bag.

Alison let out a long sigh, which drew his attention back to her. "After that day, she began teaching me out to fight," she continued. "Well, to be honest, just how to inflict as much pain as possible to the human body. The self-defense classes while I was away at college actually taught me. Refined the skills, I guess."

"… And the action movies," Kurt remarked. He was more than a little relieved—and amazed—that she smiled. A real smile that showed her teeth and crinkled her eyes. Christ… A smile hadn't been directed his way in so many years. He had forgotten what it was like. He wanted it again. He wanted to see her smile again. "Can't forget about the most important part." This time, she chuckled in response, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Yeah, definitely the movies—big part of it," she replied. Her smile lingered and Kurt found his lips twitching again. Alison shifted her gaze from him to the alarm clock. He, too, looked at the numbers. It was a little after two in the morning. He had spent nearly eight hours with Alison. He hadn't noticed at all. "We should sleep." He nodded his head in agreement, and then stood up. Kurt went over to the lip switch, and then looked back at Alison. She had stood as well and had the first aid kit in her hands. "Don't turn off the lamp's light," she told him as she made her way back to the bathroom.

Kurt absentmindedly nodded his head as he flipped the switch. He, himself, preferred to sleep with all the lights off. He also preferred to sleep in his underwear, but he doubted it would be appreciated if he were to strip down. Still, the remaining light was dim enough to the point that he could fall asleep. He sat back down on his bed, and then took off his shoes, noting the good job Alison had done with the bandages. Just as he was getting comfortable on the ugly bedspread, Alison came back out. "Do you mind if the AC stays on?" he asked as she walked over to her bed. She shook her head, pulling at the bedspread, and then nestling in her bed. She laid, facing away from him. Kurt suppressed the feeling of slight discontent before turning his eyes to the white ceiling. Letting out a sigh, he closed his eyes. _"It's almost over,"_ he told himself. Yet he still did not have a plausible excuse to see her again.

Once they went back to Banshee, he doubted Alison would keep in contact with him. Kurt had already saved her name in his phone. She, more than likely, had not done the same. So… They would be strangers again. Even if they were pass each other in town, she probably wouldn't look his way anyway. No. It was best to be glad he had the chance to do this—interact intimately with another person—and then move on, occasionally recalling the memory as a good thing. He didn't have too many good memories, after all.

"Hey, Bunker…?" Alison called out to him, causing him to open his eyes. He turned his head her way, only to see she hadn't moved. She still faced away from, the bedspread covering most of her body. Kurt cleared his throat and replied, letting her know that he was still awake and listening. "What was her name?" Mouth suddenly feeling dry, he parted his lips. He felt his entire body turn rigid.

"Who?" he asked even though he knew who Alison had been referring to. Big, trusting hazel eyes went through his head. Her braided hair with green and white beads. Her being in whatever dress she could find because she stubbornly didn't wear pants if she could help it. Her bright laughter. Her wide grin whenever she called him Captain. Her bratty pout whenever he had to leave. Her adorable sleeping face. Christ… Kurt hadn't said her name out loud since the last time he had seen her. Hadn't thought about it either. He hadn't—didn't—deserve to speak her name.

"The girl—the seven-year-old," Alison went on, not knowing the churning of his emotions. "You never mentioned the daughter's name." The dryness of his mouth extended to his throat. He could not speak. It felt like he couldn't breathe. "Bunker…?" Kurt heard her shift, but he turned his head away before she could see the tears that had gathered in his eyes.

"Naomi," he croaked in answer. His voice had cracked. He heard a small noise come from Alison, but he did not face her again. In fact, he turned his body so that only his back would be visible. Kurt shut his eyes, feeling the liquid slid down the side of his face. "Her name was _Naomi_." More shifting from Alison could be hear even over the thundering of his heart.

"Are you… Are you alright?" she whispered, voice soft and tentative.

"No," he responded honestly, just as quiet. It was the guilt bubbling up within him, gnawing at his insides. Nothing he could do would ever change the fact that she was gone. Naomi had died and he had been at fault. No matter how much good he did, it wouldn't make up for what he had caused. But wallowing in self-pity would not honor her memory. So Kurt clenched his teeth and used his sleeve to wipe the tears away. "But I will be with time."

"It might not mean much to you, but I am sorry you went through that type of loss to get to where you are now."

"… Thank you." He wasn't used to hearing apologies. It was strange. This whole excursion with Alison had been strange for him. "Same you to. I'm sorry for what happened with your mom." She had lost something great as well. For a full minute, only silence had been her response. Kurt turned to face her to see that she had been staring. With her eyebrows furrowed, she held a look of scrutiny. Maybe he should not have given condolences. She probably didn't view it as a loss. But then she breathed in and dropped her gaze.

"Thanks," she muttered. Then she laid her head down and shut her eyes. "Goodnight, Bunker." Kurt pressed his lips together as he watched her. She… was completely relaxed even with him in the room. Alison trusted him enough to fall asleep. It felt good to be trusted. Especially by her. Smiling a bit, he returned to lying on his back instead of his side.

"Goodnight, DA Medding."

As Kurt shut his eyes, he couldn't help but think…

Maybe this is what catharsis felt like.

0-0


	4. A Light Shining Through

Alison jerked awake. Her body remained tense as the surroundings were taken in. She breathed out once she recognized and remembered where she was. Waking up in a new place had nearly always caused her body to wake up in an edgy manner. She sat up slowly, pushing the covers from her body. Rubbing at her face, she groaned out loud. The morning sun had seemed to come too early. Hadn't she just gotten to sleep? A glance at the clock told her she had apparently gotten about six hours of sleep. Obviously not enough, but she crawled out of bed anyway.

Another groan let her mouth as she stretched, raising her arms up, and then reaching for her legs. She continued stretching as her gaze found its way to the other bed. Its occupant laid there, still sleeping. She had remembered his presence, but unlike before, it had not caused her… apprehension. Her body did not react with fear or revulsion anymore. Maybe it had to do with him crying? He had broken down in front of her and showed her his tears. Alison bit her lip and turned her eyes away from the sleeping man.

 _A good man isn't afraid to show his tears_ , she recited in thought. It showed that he had heart. Showed he had regrets. Showed that he was sincere. Her father had been a good man. Loved both her and her mother with everything he had. Even if he hadn't know the secret both mother and daughter shared. The secret that had influenced half of her teenaged years. _"It wasn't a loss,"_ Alison told herself before heading to the bathroom. She had become better than she had been. She was now a better person. It had taken some time to become _herself_ again, but what happened had been worth it. _"It wasn't a loss."_

She flipped the light switch and waited until the light stopped flickering before focusing on her reflection. Lovely bedhead with smudged eyeliner. Not to mention the dry blood at the corner of her lip. Wonderful. There was a convenience store just across the street. Hopefully, they had what she needed. Like a brush and hair ties. And body wash. Well, maybe not body wash. She glanced outside the bathroom. She may not be apprehensive of his presence anymore, but that didn't mean she would be comfortable taking a shower with him nearby. Best thing to do would be to wash her face, at least. She could wait for a shower once she returned home.

For now, she would take care of the blood. Alison turned on the faucet, letting the water heat up a bit before cupping her hand. She leaned forward, putting her face near the running water. She splashed the warm liquid against her mouth and rubbed her fingers against the cut. Wincing, she moved her tongue against it. It would heal. And it was barely visible. No one would bother looking. Gordon would. He'd notice. She would just have to tell him that Lena had done it. He would believe that.

Alison huffed, and then slid her hands through her hair. She should, at least, try to tame the bedhead before attempting to go out in public. After a few minutes, her hair looked a bit more presentable, and so she turned the water off, and then moved away from the mirror. Deciding to keep on the light, she walked out of the bathroom in search of her socks. They had slipped off while she slept. She pulled the covers completely off the bed. Two white socks fell, causing a smile of triumph to appear on her face. Despite the noise, Bunker still hadn't woken up. "Someone's a deep sleeper," she remarked as she slipped on her socks.

After putting on her boots and finding her jacket, Alison headed for the door, grabbing the keys from the dresser on the way out. She let the door shut by itself, hearing the lock click into place. As she walked across the street, she put on her jacket. It was cool early in the morning, so her arms had already formed chill bumps. Her jacket was light, but provided some heat. Making it to the store, she read the store hours before pulling the door open. There was a chime of a bell as she entered, eyes immediately darting for an aisle with essentials.

Finding it, she sighed in relief. She immediately went to work finding what she was looking for. There was no brushes, but she did find plastic combs. She also found facial wipes. Lucky finds. No hair ties, though. The comb would have to do. _"Jesus Christ… I don't remember the last time I had a relaxer,"_ Alison thought, frowning. She studied the bright blue comb, wishing it was made of something stronger instead. It looked sturdy enough. Maybe it wouldn't break. She would only use it for today, after all.

Deciding on her purchase, Alison moved toward the front counter. Apparently, there had been a cashier, but the girl—looked like a teen—hadn't greeted her. The girl was sitting down, too busy on her phone for the outside world. Wonderful. Suppressing an eye roll, the District Attorney shifted her attention elsewhere. There were pots of coffee—some brewing and some already made. Alison tucked the comb and facial wipes under her arm and grabbed a foam cup. And then another. She poured regular for both cups, placed lips on them, and then took them to the counter. The teen still wasn't paying attention.

The eye roll could not be contained anymore. Alison set the cups down, and then left the counter. She came back with two packaged honey buns. She set all of the items down on the counter. Still, the teen—probably seventeen—did not look away from her phone. Finally, Alison loudly cleared her throat. Green eyes glanced at her. "Good morning," the girl greeted. Her fingers moved across her cell phone in a more hurried manner. Then she set the phone down and gave her full attention. "Did you find everything you needed, ma'am?"

Trying not to scowl, Alison nodded her head. She would take semi-polite over nothing at all, she supposed. The girl rang up the items that she could, and then input the two drinks. "Is there a charge for creamers and sugar?" she asked. The girl shook her head, and then told her the total. "Got it." Alison reached into her back pocket. Thank God the twenty dollar bill was still there because she hadn't bothered to check before leaving the room.

" _Um_ … You don't look like you're from around here," the girl began. She looked her up and down. Alison really hoped she would not get a headache from this ensuing conversation.

"No, I'm just passing through," she replied, handing over the money.

"Okay. I mean, I think I should warn you," she continued. "My friend, he works over at the inn. He said a serial killer checked in!" An eyebrow jumped, not expecting to hear that. "Yeah, real late last night, this guy comes in covered in blood and tattoos. He looked… real bad according to Justin. He said this guy was one of them _Nazis_!" Alison pressed her lips together to keep from smirking. Bunker. Of course. "Justin said he had an axe and everything! Said he was gonna chop up somebody!" It was getting harder to control her mouth. "I know that they usually go for minorities, so I had to warn you." She handed her the change, wide-eyed, but conspiring. "You came out of the inn, right?"

"Yeah, I did, but I'm leaving soon. Thanks for the warning," Alison replied. The girl nodded, and then began bagging the items. "I'll just grab the creamer and sugar on my way out, if you don't mind."

"Sure." The girl gave her the bag. "Just be safe, okay?" She smiled, but it was a professional smile. Alison used that same one on clients. "Have a nice day." Returning the smile, Alison nodded, and then headed back to the coffee station. She stuck handfuls of creamer and sugar in the bag. A variety of creamers because she did not know which kinds to choose. After that was finished, she headed back to the counter to grab the two cups.

"Have a nice day." She pushed the door open with her back because she held the coffee in both hands. As she walked, she wondered how she was going to get in the door with her hands full. Having hot liquid spilled on her was not her idea of a fun time. "Hope Bunker's up." Then she let a giggle slip because she imagined him bloody, wielding an axe like the serial killer he was. Another giggle bubbled up, realizing she _should_ have been terrified of the image. She wasn't. It was weird. Hadn't been more than twenty-four hours, and yet she was laughing at the thought of Kurt Bunker. Neo-Nazi. _Former_ Neo-Nazi.

Her parents must be rolling in their graves.

Upon reaching the door, Alison held one of the cups between her arm and chest. This allowed her to fish the keys from her pocket. It took a bit more maneuvering, but she managed to unlock the door and push it open. She entered the room with a sigh and immediately set the cups down on the dresser. Then the bag. Brown eyes looked at the first bed. Bunker was still asleep. Shouldn't cops be a little more alert? She sighed though her nose, and then turned on her back on the sleeping Deputy. After rummaging a bit, she pulled the comb and facial wipes from the bag, and then headed towards the bathroom.

After about ten minutes in the bathroom, Alison was finished. Her hair much more tolerable to look at. The comb hadn't broken either. Her face felt refreshed, which was something considering where she had slept. Satisfied, she walked back out, eyes immediately looking to Bunker again. Still passed out. This man slept like the dead. "Hey, Bunker…!" she called as she moved over the where she had left the drinks. Alison received no response as she chose a cup. She took a sip from the small opening of the lid, and then faced his bed. "Bunker!" She tried again, and still no response.

Giving no more warnings, her foot lashed out and kicked the end of the bed. The man jolted and hurriedly sat up, searching the room with squinty eyes. Alison barely repressed the smirk while she waited for him to calm down. He finally rubbed at his face and let out a groan. "What time is it?" His voice, muffled from his hands and sleep, probably hadn't been directed at her. Because when she had answered him, he sharply removed his hands from his face and stared wide-eyed at her.

"Good morning," she greeted. It took him a moment, but he acknowledged the greeting with a nod. "Got you some breakfast." Alison gestured behind her. "Coffee and a treat," she stated as she walked over to her own bed. His eyes followed her movements even as she sat down. "There's sugar and creamers, too, so help yourself." Bunker cleared his throat, and then moved his legs from the bed.

"Thank you," he said. It came as a bit of surprise that her body did not tense up as he moved from the bed. He stood over her, but Alison didn't feel the need to become defensive. Well, he had been nothing but polite to her. And he had shared some pretty personal things. That was a bit of an assumption, though. He might be the type to tell anyone that would bother to listen. More than likely, she wasn't the only one to know those things about him. She ignored the ripples of disappointment as Bunker crossed the room, heading towards the bathroom.

He shut the door. Alison distracted herself by taking another sip of coffee. She then set down her cup on the nightstand and reached into her jacket pocket for her phone. There were a few missed calls. One voicemail, too. She reached for her cup again as she cued up her voicemail app. She rolled her eyes as she listened to the message. The Assistant District Attorney had left her the message, basically saying he couldn't wait for her to come back because he was a goddamn pushover and was overwhelmed with paperwork. That meant she was going to be buried in paperwork once she returned.

Feeling a scowl form, Alison slipped her phone back into her jacket pocket. Wonderful. She sipped at her coffee, already calculating how much paper she would have to sort through. She would drag Gordon into just because if she could. While she thought about ways she could guilt trip the Mayor, Bunker came out of the bathroom. Her eyes immediately followed his form as soon as he walked by. He stood in front of the dresser, back to her, and rummaged through the bag of creamers and sugar. She stared hard at the visible tattoo on his neck. More ink that made him look like a monster. He must have felt her eyes because he suddenly went rigid. His head turned a bit, but he didn't face her.

"How's the hand?" Alison asked, breaking the silence. Hearing him tell her that he could feel her looking again did not seem appealing right now. Even so, she kept her gaze on his back as he poured creamer in his cup. She took larger sips of her coffee, waiting for his reply. Bunker cleared his throat.

"It's good," he answered. "Thank you, again." Alison shrugged, though he couldn't see, and turned her gaze to the alarm clock. It was a bit after eight now. She wondered how early the police station opened. With everything that had happened last night, she hadn't thought to ask. Bunker, finished mixing his coffee, sat on his bed opposite of her. He held out a packaged honey bun. There had been no hesitation on her part to take the sweet from him. She didn't bat an eyelash even though she felt their fingers brush. Bunker, though, visibly stiffened as though she might lash out at him for his insolence. Alison hid the smirk by drinking more of her coffee and pretended not to notice. "So…" he began after a moment's pause. He cleared his throat. "When did you want to head out?"

"Whenever you did, I guess," Alison answered with a shrug.

"… Did you want to grab lunch afterwards? My treat."

"I am _not_ spending the day in this town, Bunker. This won't take that long," she replied. "In fact, I'm sure once they learn our professions, they'll let us go before we can have a seat." Bunker nodded, albeit reluctantly. Alison tucked her cup in between her legs, and then opened the wrapper of her honey bun. She attempted to ignore the flash of disappointment that made her think of a kicked puppy. Attempted. "Besides, you've already spent more on me than necessary."

"I can… I can stand to spend more."

"You trying to buy me, Bunker?" she asked with a raised brow. Alison watched, intrigued, as the man across from her blushed. His entire face had become red, even his forehead. He sputtered out a negative to her question. It took a moment before she realized where his mind had wandered to. With a roll of her eyes, she took a small bite of the treat. It would have been better warmed up. "That is not I meant, and if it had been, it would have been a joke." The color did not fade. His embarrassment could not be hidden away even if he did start drinking his coffee like it was just water. "I just meant… You don't need to keep thanking me. We're _good_ , right?"

Just like last night, Bunker hesitated. And just like last night, the same answer came from his mouth. "We're good," he said. Alison recognized it as a lie now. More than likely, he would never feel that they were _good_. She had saved his life. A dinner, and a night in a shabby inn, wouldn't make up for saving a life. At least in his opinion. She, herself, had been quite satisfied with the meal. Not to mention the extra info that came about. She appreciated that he could share those things with her. Why he had felt the need to share was beyond the scope of her imagination, though. If she were honest, the answer did not really matter. Not anymore. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she replied, and then took several bites of the honey bun while she waited for Bunker to continue. He seemed to be trying to find the right words to what he wanted to ask.

"How did you take back your power?" he blurted. Alison froze mid chew. "You said it took years for you to get it back, so after your mom… taught you, you still didn't have your power. How'd you finally do it?" The bottom of her tongue slid against her lower lip before she swallowed the food in her mouth.

"Meditation, mostly," she eventually answered. It wasn't a lie. Just another half-truth. Besides, he hadn't asked how she had come to realize she hadn't had the power. "Those self-defense classes I took—half of it consisted of meditation and learning discipline. It worked to control the hate and the rage."

"You think it would help me?"

"… Why are you suddenly interested in getting back your power?"

"I didn't realize it was gone until… until you."

"But there must be another reason, Bunker. What are you planning on doing once you have it back?"

"I'm going to destroy the Brotherhood."

0-0

Alison looked genuinely shocked by the admission. Lips parted and brows furrowed, her shock turned into confusion. Kurt shifted uncomfortably. It was the first time he had said it out loud. It was the reason he had come back to Banshee. He had lived relatively comfortable in Dade County, but that life could not stifle the need to come home and fix the wrongs. He had not been able to handle the guilt of letting the Brotherhood get away with… the things that they had done and the things that they would do. Someone had to end them. _He_ had to be the one.

"That's why you came back? The Brotherhood's the reason?" Alison asked. He nodded once in response. "I doubt rehabilitation is going to work for generations of indoctrination. Besides, we can't prosecute someone for just for looking the way they do." Kurt shifted uncomfortably again. She blinked, and then a look of realization formed. "You're… not planning on arresting them." She had understood his intent just because he had remained silent. How did this stranger come to understand him so quickly? Well, she was more than just a stranger now, wasn't she? "They'll kill you before you can make it through a _fourth_ of them."

"As long as I can take down as many as I can… that's all that matters," he stated. His gaze dropped to the floor. It's what he deserved. To go down fighting the biggest horror of Banshee. It would be justice. He had no reservations with that. For all the pain he had caused. For all the vicious sins he had committed. It was the only real way he could repent. But even that wouldn't keep him from Hell.

"That's not-! That has got to be the _stupidest_ -!" Alison breathed in sharply, cutting off, what sounded like, a rant. Kurt lifted his gaze. Her line of sight, however, was on the ceiling as if she couldn't stand the sight of him. Her voice had been high-pitched. He never thought he would see her lose her composure. But why? At the thought of him dying? Unlikely. "Jesus Christ, Bunker! Did you even think about it? How is getting yourself killed going to destroy them? They have _numbers_!" She finally looked his way again, but it was hard stare. "They could easily replace anyone that you _might_ get through. You're just a man! They are an organization who see you as a traitor, I'm sure. You'll be killed on sight and-"

"Why do you care?" Kurt cut in. His question, almost a whisper, had halted the scolding. She looked stunned by the question, and he immediately regretted asking. It would not take long for her expression to harden. He didn't want to see that. Or hear her hostile rebuttal that she didn't. He shouldn't have asked. Because now he would have to hear the answer. The woman who had saved his life did not care. Nor should she. There was only one way to deal with a monster. Death. It was coming for him. No denying it. The least he could do is spread it as much as possible to the Brotherhood.

Instead of a harsh expression and even harsher words, Alison turned her head away, slight frown on her face and eyes staring elsewhere. Kurt narrowed his eyes, coming to the realization that the action meant embarrassment. Or hesitance, maybe. Regardless, he had made her uncomfortable with his question. That made him feel guilty. It hadn't been an innocent question. It had been more than just a question, heavy with implication and accusation. Preparing to apologize for his… audacity, he opened his mouth. However, Alison released a sigh so heavy, it hunched her shoulders.

"I'm… I'm not ready to tell you that," she stated. Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment before turning on him again. It took several moments for Kurt to process what she had meant. When it sank in, it sank deep within his chest. She _cared_. How, in less than twenty-four hours, had Alison Medding come to care for him? It couldn't be possible, and yet her response to his weighted question told him so. She cared… for him? No one had cared for so long. He had long since accepted that no one ever would. Unable to react, he sat there, paralyzed, waiting for his breath to return. Biting her lower lip, Alison dropped her gaze to her lap. Her fingers and thumbs gripped the coffee cup and removed it from her thighs. "Look—I'm just saying that it would be a waste for you to throw your life away—sacrifice, whatever—just when you've turned things around. You're _better_ than they are. You shouldn't have to die surrounded by them. Naomi would not want you to die like that."

A part of him wanted to argue that she didn't _know_ Naomi. How dare she say her name so nonchalantly when he struggled to even _think_ it? Another part of him realized that Alison wasn't a mere stranger. By her own words, she could see through him. She could see the twisted creature he had become—between man and monster—and still she saw his desire to be better. She saw and understood. She didn't know the little girl, but she understood the impact Naomi still had on him. Because of his own verbal and physical admission. Kurt had willingly told her about the Millers. And that part—the larger part—wanted her to know. That part agreed that Naomi would not have wanted his end to be like that.

He had resigned himself to his fate moments after he had resolved to come back to Banshee. He hadn't considered anything else. Anyone else. There was no one alive that would care. Not even his commanding officer, who had decided to hire and train him despite his appearance, would not take more than a moment to lament his passing. If Naomi still lived, she would have become angry with his decision. _If_ she still lived. But Alison had gotten angry, too. Ranting until she had revealed that she _cared_. Christ… He still couldn't believe it.

"Bunker…" Alison caught his attention again. He had been looking at her, but his thoughts had made his stare aimless no doubt. Kurt blinked once, noticing that she had set her coffee cup down on the nightstand in between their beds. "I am not trying to stop you from doing what you think needs to be done," she clarified. "I'm just saying that you shouldn't go in thinking that death is your only way out. I saved your life. Don't insult me by dying, what, a few months later?"

"I…" Honestly, he couldn't even deny it. He had expected to die when he faced the Brotherhood. Had even welcomed it. Kurt hadn't expected for someone to save him. And then turn around and begin _caring_. He welcomed that, too. Strange. His inevitable death had no longer seemed like a sacrifice. Even if he had already resolved to destroy as much of the Brotherhood as he could. He swallowed hard. He had thought he had stopped running. But Alison made him realize maybe that's all he had ever done. Running from the Millers. Running from the Brotherhood. Running from all the pain of his past. Running to his death. Christ. "Teach me," he muttered.

"What?"

"Teach me," he repeated louder. "Teach me control. Teach me how to get my power back." The tension left her face. Alison sighed as though relieved. He couldn't promise that he wouldn't die surrounded by them. He couldn't promise not to go after the Brotherhood in the first place. But, he could, at least, try to come back. Try to become a man before taking them on. Maybe he could succeed in completely destroying it. With her help. She could see through him. How could she? Kurt now realized that she had been just like him at some point in her life. Stuck between the monster and who she was now. She could see through him because she had experienced it all herself. But if that were true, then that had meant _she had been a monster_.

The acknowledgement sent a chill down his back. Alison Medding. A monster. Christ, it didn't seem likely. She looked at him and saw the inked that marked him. She had no such markings, but she had consciously thought of herself as a monster for a period of time. He wanted to know. He wanted to see her hidden markings. He shouldn't want that. But he did. Kurt wanted to _know_ her. More than that… He wanted to _connect_ to the person who had saved his life.

"Well, I'm no teacher," Alison said with a slight shrug. "Just a student, but I can tell you the basics." She seemed a lot more at ease than before. To be honest, he felt more at ease, too. "First things first, I saw how you normally try to control your anger. Does that actually work?" Kurt cleared his throat.

"Sometimes," he answered. A frown worked its way on to his face. He thought about the numerous times he had attempted to replace his rage with pain. He had had many self-inflicted bruises. She hummed, but he couldn't gauge her opinion based on the small sound. "I know that it's not exactly healthy." Alison leaned forward, elbows against her thighs.

"Have you tried anything else?" she asked. He shook his head. "No wonder…" She pressed her thumbnails against her bottom lip and curled her fingers together as she examined him. He felt self-conscious under her gaze. It felt like she could see every tattoo on his skin. Every shame. Every sin. Every bad thing about him lay bare before her. His body tensed, but despite that, he still felt relatively comfortable. Alison stood, motioning for him to do the same. He did so, allowing her to take the half empty cup from his hand. She set it down beside hers before returning focus on him again. "Close your eyes slowly. Then breathe in deeply through your nose. Exhale with your mouth."

"Shouldn't I be sitting?" Kurt asked. He didn't know much about meditation, but he was almost positive there was sitting involved. Alison stepped closer and his body became a bit more rigid.

"I need to see you breathing to make sure you're doing it right," she replied. "Sitting will come later. Now close your eyes and _breathe_. Don't think about anything other than your breaths." Kurt obeyed, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. He sighed out, vaguely aware that she had moved to his side. He continued to breathe in and out. For a few minutes, just the sound of his breathing was all he heard. Then Alison told him to sit, so apparently he had been doing it right. For the next twenty minutes, he sat in silence and darkness. "Okay, that was good. Open your eyes."

He did so, and realized that Alison had sat down beside him. She, however, was not looking at his face. Her eyes were focused on his chest. Then shifted her attention to his left hand. She made a grab for it, facing his palm up. Kurt flinched at the touch. "What-?" he began, but she shushed him. He hadn't been _shushed_ since, Christ, the Millers. She pressed fingers to his wrist. That's when he realized she was checking his pulse. It would have been easier if she had gone for his neck… Right. She probably didn't want to touch his tattoos. Though he had ink on his wrists, it was covered by his long-sleeved shirt.

"I've a question," Alison stated. She finally lifted her gaze to meet his. He nodded his head in response. She had been asking him questions this whole time. She didn't need to ask to ask anymore. "That guy… the one that _murdered_ half of your… family—what do you intend to do with him?" Kurt swallowed hard. He had intended to do _damage_. On the road to Banshee, he had thought of the things he would do the one responsible for the fire. Hondo. He had intended to corner him and beat the living shit out of him. Before he had applied for the position of Deputy, he had intended to get his personal justice.

"He's dead," he said through gritted teeth. "Someone killed him before I even thought about coming back. Ended up being a closed case because there wasn't enough evidence to locate who did it."

"Oh," Alison narrowed her eyes. "So you missed your chance." He had missed it. It would have been satisfying to whisper _Happy Birthday_ after he had finished ruining Hondo's day. "Jesus, Bunker, calm down!" She removed her fingers from his wrist. Kurt flinched, not realizing that until she had mentioned it, that his breaths had become shaky. He murmured an apology and lowered his gaze to his knees. "You're definitely quick to anger. You were in a relaxed state, but the moment I mentioned Hondo, your heart rate spiked."

"Does this mean it won't work for me?" he questioned, gripping his knees.

"Tranquility is a state of mind," Alison stated. "It takes time for you to reach another state. Right?" Hesitantly, Kurt nodded his head in agreement. He knew personally that it did take time. "Meditate every other day for about fifteen minutes and you'll eventually be able to stay calm even if you're provoked. It will work for you."

"How long did it take you?"

"… How long will you wait before making your move?"

He couldn't answer that because he did not know. So far, he had stayed under the radar. Kurt hadn't let anyone he had… associated with know he had come home. Eventually, they would find out. Eventually, they would come looking. "I don't know. There's not a time limit for me," he answered. There had been for Hondo, though. But again, he had lost his chance. Alison nodded her head.

"It took me almost a year," she admitted. The shock must have shown on his face because she continued speaking. "Don't worry. Shouldn't take you that long. You're an adult and you have a duty now. At the time, _I_ didn't have those obligations. You have to get your mind right because of what you have chosen to be." Right. He was a cop. A Deputy. Sworn to protect and serve all. Again, Kurt nodded his head, inwardly hoping this meditation method would only take a few months. "Anyway, we should get going." She stood up and went back over to her bed. She picked up the empty wrapper and reached for her coffee cup.

"Yeah," he muttered as Alison headed to the bathroom to discard the trash. Kurt pursed his lips together, allowing his eyes to fall to his wrist. He flexed and twisted his hand. Sometimes, he could still feel the blood sliding down. Now, he felt the warmest of tingles. He furrowed his brow. Strange. He didn't have more time to ponder because Alison returned from the bathroom and asked if he wanted his honey bun.

Kurt almost couldn't contain the smile.

0-0

Almost an hour later, Kurt found himself lowering Alison's bike off his truck. The trip to the station had been relatively quick. The District Attorney had done most of the talking, explaining how it had all been self-defense. She had even told the officers a white lie about why the two of them had been at the diner in the first place. Something about them talking about a delicate case that they couldn't discuss in Banshee for fear of details leaking. Honestly, Kurt hadn't paid much attention. He had been glaring at the three dipshits that had been behind bars, silently daring them to say anything while Alison spoke to the authorities. They, in returned, had glared at him, not saying a word. Well, two of them. The one that had been brutally beaten had been cowering in the corner.

Anyway, after all was said, the two had to fill out paperwork for the incident. It had more or less been for show. More than likely, the paperwork would be buried under more important things. Now, both he and Alison were preparing to leave. "Thanks," she muttered after the wheels of her bike hit the ground. Kurt nodded, and then moved to jump from his truck. "So I guess… this is it then." She wheeled her motorcycle into the parking space beside his truck.

"I guess so," he admitted reluctantly. She had said it numerous times already. Things just kept getting in the way. Now, there was no way around it. After they parted ways here, they had nothing to do with each other. Alison shifted awkwardly besides her bike, fingers lightly touching the seat. "You sure you don't want lunch?" She smiled, but it was tight.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she replied. "I've got things to do, and I'm sure you do, too." Her head turned slightly. "Good luck with the Deputy thing." Kurt frowned, but she didn't see. "Oh, wait! I forgot my helmet."

"I'll get it," he offered, turning before she could look his way again and see the disappointment. He sighed softly as he opened his passenger door. There wasn't one excuse that he could come up with that would seem plausible to see her again. Not one. And he had been thinking about since last night. Things were truly done between them. Kurt grabbed her helmet from the floor of his truck. As he did, he noticed something in the corner of his eye. He stared long and hard at the object wedged between the padding of the seat.

"Bunker…?"

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before moving. He shut his passenger side door and turned around. Holding the helmet out to her, he didn't look at her in the eye. "Here you go," he said, though he barely heard himself. The sound of his rapidly beating heart had entered his ears. Alison took her helmet and without another word straddled her bike. "Goodbye, DA Medding." She stuck her keys in the ignition.

"Bye, Deputy Bunker," she said with a nod. She then put on her helmet and backed out of the parking space. Kurt watched her start up the bike. She then took off, giving a slight wave of her hand.

He watched her go until he could no longer see or hear the roar of the motorcycle. Pressing his lips together, he moved to the driver's side of his truck. He opened the door while fishing out his keys. Before he put his own keys in the ignition, his eyes shifted to the object left behind. Once more, he stared at the small device. He hadn't said anything. He should have said something. The opportunity, though… He hadn't felt so… comfortable around another person in a long time. Alison had made him feel humane. He hadn't realized that he had been missing that contact—human contact. Not until her. He hadn't wanted to let go. So when the chance came, he had seized it by saying nothing at all.

As if disapproving of his lack of action, her cell phone chimed. He felt the slightest guilt as he started up his vehicle. Mostly, though, he felt relief… and anticipation. "See you soon… Alison," he said.

Kurt left the parking lot with a smile that reached his eyes.

0-0


	5. I Saw You Differently

Kurt Bunker was a bizarre man.

It had taken just a few short hours of working together for Billy Raven to reach this conclusion. Everything had been a jumble—chaotic—at the station that night. He hadn't truly been paying attention to anything around him. His thoughts had been twisted with guilt at the time, and admittedly, he had been preparing himself for sacrifice. Now, his mind had been clear enough to actually think. The newest Deputy was a goddamn _Nazi_! Billy couldn't begin to imagine what had been going through the Sheriff's mind when he had hired the man. Apparently, he had had his uses in the confrontation with Chayton. Taking an arrow to the chest had muddled his… pretty much _everything_ and he hadn't been able to see all that happened.

Billy had come back to work—earlier than he should have, according to the doctor… and his wife—only to be told that his tattooed co-worker was official. He was to be Deputy Siobhan Kelly's replacement. Like he had been to Deputy Emmett Yawners. Billy knew how awkward the Nazi-cop must feel. He had felt it himself actually. They had that in common. But… He did not feel compelled to talk to him. The man was covered in tattoos that showed how much he hated anyone that didn't look like him. Billy had been very uncomfortable in his presence and had wondered more than once if he should have waited until next week to come back to work.

That uncomfortable feeling had been replaced with confusion as the minutes ticked by and turned into hours. The Nazi-cop didn't act like a Nazi-cop. He was polite—borderline freakishly polite. The Nazi-cop had to be the most formal person Billy had come across. He had been called 'sir' more times today than he had in all his life. Growing up on the reservation did not earn him respect. _Being_ a part of the reservation hadn't earned him respect even as an officer. A person wasn't respected unless he had ties to whatever gang was in power at the time. A few decades ago, it had been the _Runaways_. Anyway, being called 'sir' by the Nazi-cop was a bizarre mix of delight and disgust. Maybe not disgust. Maybe not delight. More like, Billy _liked_ the recognition of being a 'senior officer,' but not coming from _him_ of all people.

He had to sit across from a man that literally showed how much he hated other people. He had to work with someone that must have done awful things to people like him—the minorities. However, his behavior did not match the tattoos. There were no snide remarks. His 'yes, sir' routine hadn't seemed sarcastic in the least. His eyes—and Billy prided himself on recognizing micro expressions—did not hold hidden contempt. The Nazi-cop was genuine. In his work. In his manners. It was all confusing and bizarre.

Billy did not like it.

He despised being confused. He could normally read people like a book. Could tell their intention just based on their eyes. Kurt Bunker was different somehow. His behavior had to be an elaborate façade. Had to be. One that was extremely hard to see through. Still, the confusion lingered. Billy wanted to believe it was a ruse, but deep down… his instincts told him otherwise. The Nazi-cop may have been a horrible man at some point in his life. Now, he seemed… like a normal cop. No, not normal. _"Way too robotic to be normal,"_ Billy thought, staring down the other man as he scribbled away on whatever paperwork he could find to work on.

There wasn't much to do at the station since the attack. Nothing except cleaning and pretending to browse previous cases. The Nazi-cop was, more than likely, going over new employee papers. It was a large stack of rules and regulations that, admittedly, Billy had merely scanned through. The Nazi-cop seemed to be reading it word for word. Dedication, he suppose it was. Even if he didn't realize that another person was staring hard at him.

The Nazi-cop suddenly stilled, causing Billy to do the same. He watched the new Deputy clench his jaw. He had noticed? Was he going to say something? He could try. Billy had no problem with retaliation. Personally, he had never come across men with ink like that. Mostly because he hadn't had the opportunity. Now that he was off the reservation, anything seemed possible. Instead of looking his way or speaking, the Nazi-cop maneuvered in his chair a bit. He pulled out his cell phone, which was a flip phone—something Billy had quietly chuckled about it when he had first seen it—and then opened his top drawer.

To Billy's surprise, he pulled out another cell phone. A smart phone, one of the newer models maybe. It was covered with a dark blue case with four clear crystal gems at the four corners. Didn't seem like it belonged to him. Maybe he confiscated it during a patrol…? Still, it was odd. The Nazi-cop dialed numbers on his cell phone. Within moments, the smartphone began buzzing. Bizarre. But it only got worse. As soon as the Nazi-cop's eyes shifted to the screen of the smartphone, his expression showed surprise. Then his eyes lit up like a kid seeing fireworks for the first time. He didn't smile, but Billy knew that the Nazi-cop was… thrilled. Or maybe in awe.

Billy squirmed in his chair, feeling the curiosity grow and scratch at his brain. His insides were just begging to find out what had caused that type of reaction from the normally stoic male. The Nazi-cop cleared his throat before putting the smartphone back in his desk drawer. He then went back to whatever paper he had been looking over. Billy would have doubted that he even saw the bizarre occurrence if not for the way both corners of the Nazi-cop's lips tugging upward like he was trying super hard not to smile. _Smile_ , of all things! Billy narrowed his eyes as the Nazi-cop dropped the pen. He touched his bandaged hand, fingers lightly rubbing the stained gauze. He hadn't always had his hand wrapped. He had not had an injury on his hand at the funeral... So bizarre. And that smartphone clearly belonged to another person—highly likely a woman based on the case. How did he get it? And more importantly, who did the device belong to? Obviously, it was none of his business. But…

He had to find out.

0-0

Gordon Hopewell pressed his finger against the doorbell… again. Alison had a knack for not hearing when she had company. Either she was listening to music and pacing about her house or playing an extremely violent videogame with headphones on. Other times, he had caught her in the middle of one of Marvel marathons. He did not want to make the same mistake today. He had already been in hot water for sending her to therapy. Gordon knew it had been frustrating for her, and he understood her irritation with him. He had tried to make it up to her by offering to buy drinks before she went back to work. He had been shot down hard last night.

Today, though, he had come bearing gifts. Alison's absolute favorite thing was food. She couldn't resist it. Gordon didn't believe she realized that he knew. It was a little secret for whenever he pissed her off. Too bad Carrie didn't have a similar weakness… With a sigh, the Mayor rang the doorbell again. This time, he heard movement on the other side of the door, and then her blurred image appeared at the window. Within seconds, she opened the door. Huh. He rarely got to see her in casual clothing. She wore a dark blue buttoned sleeveless shirt and black leggings. The hem of her shirt was long enough to cover her thighs mid-way. Alison immediately crossed her arms over her chest. Still annoyed, but at least it wasn't anger.

"What do you want, Gordon?"

Despite her hostile-like question, her brow furrowed as if she wasn't expecting his visit. He had definitely texted her this morning. Although he hadn't gotten a response, he had just assumed that she had read it and rolled her eyes. Gordon pondered it for a second longer before letting the thought drop. He moved his hands from behind his back and revealed the gift. Expectedly, her eyes lit up in response to seeing her favorite boxed cookies. "To make amends," he said with a light smile. She returned the smile, but it was more so towards the cookies than him.

"Are those s'more cookies?" she questioned, though she could already see. Her arms relaxed at her sides. "You shouldn't have."

"Can you accept my apology?"

"Well, if you insist," Alison replied with a shrug. The box of cookies were snatched from his hand. Gordon chuckled as she stepped aside. "Do you want to come in?"

"Actually, no," he said. "I'm on my way back to the office from lunch." Alison nodded, but her interest were only in the cookies. She was attempting to open the cookies right in front of him. He hadn't expected her to wait anyway. "I just wanted to talk about the files you left on my desk." She glared at him. "I already signed off on them—don't worry." Her expression relaxed as she put a cookie to her lips. "I just noticed a few things missing and I wanted to know where they might be. The new ADA didn't know anything."

"Jesus Christ, I told him to copy the pictures and put them back in the files," Alison muttered with an eye roll. "They're probably in the bottom drawer of my desk. He likes putting shit there when he doesn't know where it goes." Gordon chuckled. Normally, Alison was so professional—the rare times that she used vulgar language was almost charming. "This couldn't wait until after I'm on the clock?"

"It could have, but I can't keep them lying on my desk without getting filed," Gordon stated. "Besides, I would have talked to you over the phone, but you wouldn't answer, so I just texted you when I'd be stopping by." He watched as the woman in front of him froze. She even stopped chewing. Unprecedented. "You know where your phone is, don't you?"

"Of course…! But I don't have it here," Alison was quick to retort after a moment's pause and after she had swallowed. Her eyes looked everywhere but at him. She wasn't lying, but she had become nervous. About her phone? Why? "I'll be getting it sometime later today."

"Did you break it?"

"I just left it somewhere, asshole. I know where it is and it's not broken."

Better let the situation drop. Alison was becoming angry with his line of questioning. "Alright, calm down," Gordon soothed, throwing his hands up in a surrendering gesture. If he had a white flag, he would throw that up, too, just in case. The woman huffed lightly, but she had relaxed. "I'll see you at the office on Monday?" He turned slightly, preparing to leave. She nodded as her hand reached inside the box for another cookie. He caught sight of the small cut at the corner of her bottom lip as she opened her mouth. "What happened to your lip?" he asked casually.

Now that he looked closely, though, it was a little bruised, too. Like she had been hit. It had been a long while since he had been in combat, but he recognized that type of injury. Someone had backhanded her. Probably had a ring on or something to cut into her skin like that. Admittedly, he probably wouldn't have seen it if she had covered the bruising with makeup. Once again, Alison's gaze turned away from him. "Nothing much… Lena and I were roughhousing. I guess she got lucky. Don't worry about it." Definitely a lie. Besides, Alison's best friend did not wear rings. He had had to listen to Alison rant about buying Lena a gift every year around the same time because she didn't like accessories. Gordon narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but she did not return his stare. "Anyway, see you at work."

"Yeah…" he trailed off because Alison had already shut the door. He turned completely and walked away from her porch. The Mayor viewed his District Attorney as a good friend. As a good friend, he felt uneasy with her dismissal of the cut on her lip. He didn't know Lena well, but he did know the two best friends did tussle on occasion. Nothing too bad, though. Alison never showed up for work with injuries before, at least. Something had happened to her and she hadn't wanted to tell him. _"I suppose that's fair,"_ Gordon thought as he made his way to his car. As good of friends as they were, they didn't tell each other everything. Still, it was worrisome.

A massive part of him wanted to look into it. Obviously, he couldn't. He and Lena weren't exactly talking buddies. Gordon only knew about Lena in the first place because Alison sometimes talked/complained about her best friend's tendencies. He had never actually met her. The Mayor really hoped she was okay. The therapy, although unwanted, was supposed to help her. What happened to her had been violent. Being placed in another violent situation like that might have triggered memories of what had happened when she had been sixteen.

Gordon shut his eyes for a moment and sat in his car in silence. Alison wasn't aware, but he had checked up on her. He had been obligated to, and not as a friend. But as the District Attorney himself. He had been rooting for her to replace him when he had become the Mayor, but he still had to run a background check. What he had found… had been horrible. He couldn't believe that Alison had gone through something like that at a young age. He really couldn't believe it with the way she acted _now_. Statistically, young girls… could not break free of what happened to them. He _knew_. He knew from prior cases that he had worked. Those girls did not go on to live _fulfilling_ lives.

Alison had obviously been different. She had broken free and had moved on. Even though most of the cases she worked had to do with men— _scum_ , to be perfectly honest—like the ones who had beaten her father. It had made sense when Gordon found out. She had always been enthused about sending men like that to prison. He had wondered, quite a few times, how she had come from that type of background and still be able to function like a normal person. She'd never tell him. Not about that night. Not about the most recent night. And not about the cut on her lip. He supposed he would know eventually. All it took was a bit of digging. A bit of digging wouldn't hurt. He was just concerned for his good friend. He had to know she would be alright.

He was still rooting for her, after all.

0-0

Eyes continuously darting to the clock on the wall, Alison paced the length of her living room. More than once, she had banged her knee against the corner of the coffee table. It hadn't deterred the pacing in the least. Minutes before midnight, and she still hadn't formed a plan as to how this conversation would play out. Not for lack of trying. She had been thinking about this for most of the day. After coming back home, napping, and then showering, thoughts of how the conversation would go had filled her mind. Now, it was almost time, and she hadn't thought of a casual—and intentional—line of topic.

Alison gnawed on her lower lip. Her fingers squeezed the cordless phone in her hand. She released a sigh, cursing herself for not thinking things through properly. She had to make the call now or it would be too late. Then she would have another day full of pacing and thoughts that would get her nowhere. Like Hell. So taking a deep breath, she dialed the memorized number. She released as she listened to the ringing. Finally, the line picked up. "Hello…?" Despite breathing properly, Alison still felt her lungs clench tightly.

"Bunker," she greeted once she calmed herself.

"A-" He cleared his throat. "DA Medding?"

Panicking a bit, Alison froze. "Where are you?!" she blurted. It took a moment for him to answer. He stated that he was in his truck about to leave the CADI. Jesus Christ…! She thought he had still been in public. If anyone had overheard him… "Oh," she sighed. "Great." She rubbed at her temple.

"I actually wanted to contact you. Your cell phone-"

"That's actually why I'm calling," she rushed out. "I… misplaced my phone. I thought you might have seen it?"

"Yes. I have it," he answered. "I've been trying to come up with some way to contact you so you can have it back. I could wait for you here?"

"No… No, I don't want to inconvenience you anymore," Alison replied. Why did he want them to meet in public? Did he not understand the backlash that would follow if they were to be seen together? "Tell me your address and I'll come pick it up from there."

"My address…?"

It sounded like he almost choked. Well, there was no way she would willingly ask him to stop by her home. She wasn't ready for that. This was her home. Her sanctuary. Despite what they had been through, she wasn't ready for him to be here. Alison furrowed her brow. Maybe it was asking too much to go to his place, now that she thought about it. "If you don't want-" she began but Bunker coughed and cleared his throat. Several times. Then he said it was okay and told her his address. "I know where that is, actually. I can be there in maybe fifteen minutes if that's okay."

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Great."

"Good."

"… Alright, I'll see you soon."

Before hearing a response, Alison hung up her phone. That was awkward. Really awkward. She couldn't describe it as anything but. Still, she had gotten what she needed, so frowning, she shook it off. Her cell was important. She needed it. This is how she could get it. Sighing heavily, she made her way to the hall to grab her keys. She slipped into her blue flats while sifting through her purse for the teal wallet. Finding it, she tucked it under her arm and headed out the door.

After locking it, she headed for her car. She normally parked her bike in the garage and the car in the driveway. She suppose that meant she loved her bike more than she did her car. Alison got in her car, closed the door, and then put her key into the ignition. However, she did not turn the engine on. She sat there for a moment before leaning back against her seat. A puff of air left her as she closed her eyes. What was she doing?

It was a question that plagued her damn near the whole day. Ever since she had left Bunker at the police station. She didn't know _why_ she was doing this either. Well, no… That wasn't true. She knew why. It's just… There were a lot of things Alison could admit to herself. She was her own confidante when she Lena was busy. She knew and accepted that she was intrigued by Kurt Bunker. She also… cared. She did. The reason she had done what she did had to do with the simple fact of wanting to see him again. She wanted to see his progression. She wanted to know that he would become a man. Alison bit her lower lip. Admitting all that out loud, though? Confessing such thoughts?

 _Fuck_ that.

So, without really thinking of anything else, Alison had hidden her cell phone in his truck. Just to have an excuse to talk to him again. Not that awkward conversation they had just had over the phone. But a real talk like they had had in the diner or at the motel. She wanted that. And it was weird that she did. However weird it may be, though, she still accepted that she wanted it. Again, admitting it out loud was about as appealing as getting hit in the face with a cactus. So, here she was back at the same question. What was she _doing?_

Alison hadn't thought of what happened after. Sure, she'd get her phone back. Maybe they would talk. But after that? Nothing. She could not see an after. Did she even want an after? What would that even be? What would they be to each other? Groaning, Alison sat up a bit and turned the key. With questions like those, she really wanted to talk to Lena. Her best friend would lose her shit, though. No. This was her little issue and her little secret. Bunker was her secret. And damn if that didn't rush through her like adrenaline.

Releasing another sigh, Alison pulled out of her driveway. She had been sighing a lot lately, hadn't she? Regardless, she needed to get her mind right. So she drove into the dark night, focusing on directions. However, as her destination loomed closer, her mind, once again, swam with questions she could not answer. She hadn't been this inquisitive towards herself about a situation since… that little boy.

Alison grit her teeth as she parked her car. Shaking away dangerous thoughts, she turned off the engine and removed her key from the ignition. She grabbed her wallet from the passenger seat as she opened the door. The surrounding area was less than average. From the outside, the apartment complex looked more like a motel. Not a lot of vehicles either, which maybe meant not a lot of tenants. Most people were probably put off by the outward appearance, so it wasn't widely known that the rooms were comfortable, spacious, and pleasing to the eye. She, herself, had never lived here, but she had checked it out after moving out of her parents' home.

After making sure the door was locked, Alison began making her way around the complex. The place didn't have multiple floors, so with just a bit of walking, she would find the right apartment. After a few moments, she found it. She also spotted Bunker's vehicle of choice. She drew in a large breath as she made her way to his apartment door. Again, the question popped into her head. _"What am I doing…?"_ she thought as her knuckles rapped against the dark green door. As she waited for an answer, her gaze strayed away from the golden numbers of the door. There didn't seem to be any neighbors, peeking out of windows to sneak a glance in her direction. In fact, there hadn't seemed to be neighbors at all. In hindsight, that was pretty good. She didn't have to worry about being seen.

Alison felt the sudden rush of wind. She also heard the door open, causing her to turn her attention back. Her body immediately tensed at seeing him. But it was not the same sort of tense she had had when he had come through the diner door. She wasn't nervous or put off by his presence anymore, so it wasn't that. She couldn't explain it really. It wasn't the tattoos either. Despite him being out of uniform, he still wore clothes that covered most of them. Shy of wearing a turtleneck, the ink on his throat would remain visible, though. It couldn't have been the tattoos. She wasn't sure why her body reacted like it did. Maybe it was just a habit she had yet to get rid of. "DA Medding," he greeted, sounding slightly surprised. Alison bit her lower lip, and then nodded in response.

"Bunker," she said. "… Can I come in?"

"Oh, ye-yeah, of course," he replied. He stepped aside, a bit stiff, but Alison ignored that. She walked pass him into his territory. Her body did not relax as she ventured through his apartment. But it did not get worse when she heard the front door close. Even as she felt his presence behind her, she did not feel herself coil like a spring. Perhaps she was simply distracted. Her eyes were darting, taking in all that she could from her current vantage point. As far as she could see, his apartment was bare. A lonely gray two-cushioned couch was the only thing in the carpeted living room. In the adjacent room, she believed to be a kitchen because of the tile that began at the threshold. Down the hall, she assumed there was the bedroom and a bathroom.

There were no decorations. There weren't even boxes to indicate that he just hadn't finished unpacking yet. "How long have you been back?" Alison blurted out the question as she turned to face him. He looked back at her. Bunker looked quite the opposite of comfortable, with his hands tucked into his pockets and everything. Gordon did that whenever she glared at him. Was she glaring now?

"Just a few weeks," Bunker answered. He cleared his throat. "I didn't have much to bring with me. Most of my things are in my room or in the kitchen." Alison gave a noncommittal hum in response. He shifted awkwardly. "Did… Did you want some coffee? I was about to make a pot. I know it's late, but-"

"That's fine," she cut in. "Coffee's fine." Bunker nodded and headed into the kitchen. Alison released a silent breath as she berated herself. She had to stop interrupting him. After a moment's pause, she followed after. Immediately, she looked around the new setting. His kitchen had a sliding glass door that led outside. The long white blinds were partially open, allowing her to see her reflection. The kitchen also had an island counter.

Alison stood at the counter and decided to place her wallet down. She watched Bunker rummage through one of his cabinets. She leaned against the counter with her arms folded, gaze drifting to the rest of the kitchen. The refrigerator and stove were black—and appeared new—looking a bit mix-match with the white cabinets and the brown countertops. Brown eyes shifted back to Bunker when she heard water running. He was filling his coffee pot now. "You usually make coffee after work?" she asked. He went still for just a few seconds. His head turned a bit to the side as though he wanted to look her way, but didn't.

"Yeah, I stay awake for a few hours afterwards," he stated. He pushed a few buttons on the coffee maker and it hummed to life. Alison couldn't see it, but she heard the water pouring into the glass pot. Still, it took Bunker more than a second to actually face her. She gave him a look, hoping that it conveyed that she wanted an explanation. His eyes looked down at the counter for a moment. "Reading," he finally said. Unexpected.

"What? You have books piled in your room?"

"Scattered, actually."

Alison held back a chuckle, but couldn't control the smile. Maybe that was the reason he was a deep sleeper. She heard somewhere that reading could be considered a form of meditation—a relaxation method. "How long have you been doing that?" she asked, curious.

"… Almost a full year, now." Bunker didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. It was distracting. Alison shifted her line of sight to his flitting fingers. They immediately stilled under her gaze. Slowly, his inked hands left the counter. His hand was still wrapped, but she could see the black ink. She had seen those series of numbers many times in her career. She had put away monsters with those same numbers. 1488. To be honest, she didn't really understand what it meant. Just that if someone had it painted somewhere on their body, they were the enemy. Bunker was different, though—ashamed of the ink on his skin. Instead of art, he might have seen them as ugly scars. " _Um_ —I'll get the mugs." He turned away from her again, clearly nervous, and opened a different cabinet and reached high.

"Why did you become a cop?" Alison asked as he busied himself by grabbing two mugs from the highest shelf.

She had questioned him before, but she didn't remember a clear answer as to why he chose this particular profession. The easier path would have been to lay low, get a job where he didn't have to interact with others, save up enough money to get the tattoos removed, and pretend he had never been a part of the white supremacy. But he chose a much harder route. People would see the tattoos first and not trust him. No matter his actions. Maybe they would come around, but there would always be hints of fear from the public. He… would never be able to form a solid relationship like that. Friends or otherwise.

Bunker set the two white mugs down on the counter. "Originally, it was because of Officer Miller," he said. "After my separation from the Brotherhood, I went as far as I could go. Ended up in Florida. Did a lot of thinking… and drinking on the way there. Had nowhere else to go, so I eventually thought that if I became a cop, it would give me the courage to face him. That he would accept me. It took a long time for me to convince the Sheriff there to take me on. But he did and I became a cop."

"Did you try to contact Officer Miller?"

"No," Bunker shook his head and dropped his gaze to the countertop. "I realized that he would never accept me. I took away his only daughter. I don't get to have acceptance." He visibly swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. For a moment, he was silent. Alison remained quiet herself, watching him. She understood his reasoning. She also understood why he had chosen the harder path. He didn't think he _deserved_ an easy life. He must think only pain and suffering could be allowed for someone like him. Jesus Christ… "Anyway, by the time I came to this conclusion, I liked what I what did. Even if my coworkers didn't like me or the people I was sworn to protect and serve didn't, the job itself was worth it." And apparently, he was okay with living a lonely, painful life until his end at the Brotherhood's hands.

Slight irritation began crawling within her. Alison didn't understand why, though. It was his life. He could do what he wanted. He could live however he wanted. However he thought he deserved. That understanding did not stop the irritation. He was clearly better than he was, and yet he didn't even want to _try_ to get out of that vicious hurricane of negative emotions? Idiotic. Cringe-worthy. And almost the exact mind frame she had before ultimately deciding to go to college.

Before she could make a comment, which probably would have seemed snappish, the coffee maker beeped once, signaling that the pot was done. Bunker turned to grab it, just missing the annoyed look that had crossed Alison's face. She bit her lower lip to stifle the expression and reel in her irritation. If she could meet her younger self, she believed she would smack her. Bunker was like her younger self and that made her want to smack _him_.

By the time he turned around again, she had fixed her face back to neutral. He began pouring the coffee. Alison watched the steam as it rose. It was soothing seeing the curls of steam. The smell was even better. "How do you like your coffee? I have some creamer in the fridge. I think I'm out of sugar." Bunker began pouring his own cup. She gripped the handle of the filled mug and brought the edge to her lips.

"I like my coffee black… just like my metal," she replied, unable to resist. Ever since she heard the song, every time she was asked how she liked her coffee, that answer would pop out and she couldn't control it. It was perfect because she actually did like her coffee without cream or sugar. Alison ignored the awkward silence she got—it was normal—by sipping the dark liquid.

"You know _Mindless Self Indulgence_?" Bunker asked. It almost sounded incredulous, but he had a voice that did not exactly change unless he was talking about his horrible past.

"What of it?"

"It's… surprising."

Alison licked her lips as she set her mug down. "Because of my skin color?" she asked in a nonchalant way. It was probably wrong that she got satisfaction at how red his face had become. Holding back a smile, she watched him chug his hot coffee. He must have a high tolerance for pain because when he set his mug down, it was empty. Fresh coffee gone in five seconds. "You need some water?"

"Cream, actually. How can anyone drink this without sugar?"

Chuckling, Alison went over to the refrigerator. She opened the door and immediately located the Coffee-Mate. She also noticed the rest of the refrigerator was filled with several items she didn't buy. Stuff to make other stuff. Did he cook? She kinda remembered him telling her that he had been taught. She grabbed the creamer and shut the door. "You didn't know black coffee was for psychopaths?" she teased. Bunker laughed as he took the creamer from her. _"Still has a dorky ass smile,"_ she thought as she took her place across from him again. He poured himself more coffee. "To answer your question, yes I do know and enjoy angry white boy music like _Mindless Self Indulgence_. I still like R &B and hip hop because of stereotypical reasons, but I like other things, too."

"Angry white boy music…?"

"That's what it is, Bunker." After a few seconds, he nodded his head in agreement and poured creamer into his mug. Alison drank a bit more of her coffee. "I'm curious, though. What about you? Listen to other stuff besides angry white boy music?" He cleared his throat, causing her to raise a brow. "Come on, Bunker. It's been years, hasn't it? Angry white boy music isn't all you listen to anymore, right?"

"…" He said something, but she couldn't hear him clearly. She stared at him blankly, hoping he would repeat himself. Bunker cleared his throat again, and then repeated himself. "Will Smith. Anything with him."

"What?!"

"I realize that may be unanticipated, but Will Smith is a talented man. I've seen all of his movies. Even that horrible one with his son. I've listened to all of his albums. I've watched every episode of _The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air_." Alison continued to stare. Her mouth might have been open. "To be fair, it started when I was with the Millers. The entire family loved the show."

"Jesus Christ, Bunker…!" Then she started laughing. "I was expecting something a little less angry. Like… Like country or alternative."

"I don't like country."

That just made her laugh more. She couldn't believe she was standing across from a person, that just a few years ago participated in a deep hatred for people like her, and laughing because Will Smith was so charismatic he could get a Neo-Nazi to like him. The smile remained on her face as the laughter died. Bunker looked as though he was holding back a smile of his own. His eyes crinkled anyway. It was at that moment that she realized the answer to the question that had been haunting her mind all day. So what was she doing? She was attempting friendship. She wanted to be a friend to Kurt Bunker.

Jesus Christ… The realization hit like a punch to the gut, which felt oddly… good. Huh. Alison took several sips of coffee. She swallowed hard. "So…" she began, and then cleared her own throat. "Where's my phone?" His lips stopped twitching and his gaze fell to his mug. He awkwardly told her he left it in his pocket and went to retrieve it. When he left, she released sigh. It was already decided in her mind. She would befriend him, but saying it out loud wasn't something she was exactly comfortable with. For obvious reasons. But she wasn't uncomfortable with actually going through with it.

A few moments later, Bunker came back. He set her cell phone down on the counter next to her wallet. "Here you go." Despite his monotone, Alison got the sense that there was hesitation on his part. She picked up her cell phone as he stood opposite of her again. "I guess you're leaving then?"

"Oh, I'm not going _anywhere_ until I hear you rap the theme song," she replied, feeling a grin spread on her face. Bunker looked rightfully shocked by her declaration. Then his face got red again, causing a giggle to slip through her lips. "Or… you can cook me something? I haven't eaten dinner." Admittedly, she hadn't eaten lunch either. Her own thoughts had been so distracting, she hadn't stopped to eat. Accept those cookies Gordon had brought her. Those were good.

"I… Yeah, o-okay. Good."

"Great." Alison bit her lower lip to stop smiling. Bunker cleared his throat again. She wondered if he would ever stop being so stiff. "You don't mind if I keep your cell number in my phone, do you?" He shook his head, and then turned away to go over to the refrigerator. Truth be told, she had already named his contact 'Neo.' By itself, it was actually a pretty okay term. It signified something new. Something revived or modified. And she loved Keanu Reeves, so… major plus.

"You cook…?" Bunker asked, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator.

"A little, but I tend to lean more towards desserts than entrees."

"I can tell," he muttered.

"What was that, Bunker?"

"Nothing." He coughed, but then began putting items on the counter. She could see a certain gleam in his eyes. It reminded her of amusement. Alison hummed, pressing her phone to her lips to cover the smile. She had heard him. And she was still a bit embarrassed that he had caught her happily drinking that milkshake in the diner. He must have been thinking about it when he had made that comment. However, she did not want to bring it up at this moment. They were teasing each other right now. Intentionally. And that was great. "Since I'm cooking for you now… is it possible for you to bake me something one day?"

"Maybe," she shrugged. "Depends of how good of a meal you make for me. My cheesecake doesn't come cheap." The instant the words came out of her mouth, she heard what it sounded like. Before she could become mortified, though, Bunker laughed out loud. Like before in his truck. Like he hadn't laughed in a while and it was blurted out unexpectedly.

"Alright, DA Medding…" he said with a lingering smile. "Challenge accepted."

Sixty minutes later, Alison did not what she had consumed. He had told her, of course, but it was French and she didn't retain the translation. But it was _damn good_. She knew then that she had to keep Bunker around for as long as possible. As a personal chef. And a friend. Obviously. That was the goal. Also… She definitely needed to hear him rap and keep the recording forever. Fuck the Brotherhood. They would not be Kurt Bunker's end.

0-0


	6. I Hear Your Voice Calling Out To Me

Kurt found his eyes, once again, shifting to the clock on the wall. Time seemed to be moving slow today. Slower than normal. It was most likely due to completing his written work. His new hire papers were done, reports he had been given—courtesy of the deputies because he was new guy—had been completed, too. There wasn't much else to do now. Calls weren't coming in either. On days like this, he shifts tended to drag. And no amount of reviewing past cases would make it go any quicker. Even going over rules and regulations had become tedious after a while. He wasn't even half way through his shift. Dade County had never been so dead. He hadn't ever needed to worry about not having something to do. With such a large population, it was commonplace. But Banshee was a small fraction compared to his former place of residence. At least, he didn't have to worry about people staring at him in disdain. Not as much, anyway.

Suddenly his felt his cell vibrate in his pocket. Furrowing his brow, Kurt shifted in his seat to pull this phone out. He glanced at the caller ID, and immediately a smile touched his face. Clearing his throat, he flipped his phone open and pressed it to his ear. He greeted his caller with a simple hello. "Bunker," she replied. Kurt looked around the CADI, just to make sure he was truly alone before allowing his smile to spread. "You working today?"

"Hardly," he replied, almost releasing a huff. Alison chuckled on the other end. Kurt felt his smile grow a bit more. He liked hearing her laugh. "I'm… I'm by myself right now." The reason he had told her was to reassure her that if he said her name during their conversation, she wouldn't have to worry about others knowing. In other words, he could speak freely. Alison made an inquisitive noise, most likely wondering why. So he told her. Deputy Raven was currently out on patrol. Deputy Lotus had left for the day. The Sheriff hadn't come in today at all. Ever since the FBI had packed up and left, after the unsuccessful capture of Chayton, Sheriff Hood's presence had been scarce. He hardly ever laid eyes on the man.

" _Ah_ … Okay, so… _um_ … If you're not busy… could you come over?" Alison asked. Kurt blinked, surprised. He then looked towards the clock again. It was only a little after 4:30PM. She should still be at work. He asked for her location. "Oh, I decided to take a short day. I… I'm not feeling quite right. Could you come over?" Something in her voice told him something was wrong. Not only that, Alison had never extended an invitation over to her home. Every other night, they would meet at his apartment, after his shift, for the past three weeks. Not once did she even _imply_ that she wanted him over. Now, here she was, deliberately asking.

It was enough to have him worried. It was enough to make him stand up. "Y-Yeah, I can. Just give me your address," he told her. Alison sighed. She was relieved… Frowning, Kurt reached for a pen. He held his phone between his ear and shoulder, and then grabbed the small notepad on his desk. "Okay." At his prompting, she slowly and carefully gave her address, and then gave directions from the CADI. He repeated it back to her just to make sure as he wrote it down. At her confirmation, Kurt tore the paper from the pad and stuffed it into his pocket. "I'll be there soon," he said, dropping the pen and notepad back on his desk. He held his phone more comfortably to his ear with his hand. "Alison…?" She hadn't responded right away.

"Y-Yeah, I'm here. See you soon."

She hung up before a reply could be given. Kurt felt his frown deepen. Something obviously had her distracted. It made him uncomfortable. Alison Medding, normally composed, had seemed rattled over the phone. A sigh left his nose. He hoped she would tell him what was going on. They talked a lot, but sometimes he felt that they talked more about him than her. She was a private type of person. Any more prodding than necessary, and she would shut down or get angry. He had learned that when he had asked too many questions about her teenaged years. After the horrific incident that happened when she had been sixteen. She never liked talking about her parents either. Then again, neither did he.

Kurt pulled open his top desk drawer and fished out his set of keys. Since he was still new to the station, he didn't have a cruiser yet. Deputy Raven was currently using the only one left anyway. He would have to take his truck. In a slightly hurried manner, he made his way to the entrance of the CADI. After a 'Radio if you need me' to Alma—to which she expectedly rolled her eyes—Kurt headed out. It would seem that Alma would never accept him. At least she hadn't put in her two weeks yet. People had left because they had refused to work with him while he had been in Dade County. It was an awful feeling to carry around.

He made it to his vehicle and quickly climbed in. As usual, he glanced at the passenger seat. Ever since Alison had rode with him, his eyes would stray to 'her spot.' Before her, no one else had claimed it. Admittedly, she hadn't either. 'Her spot' was something Kurt had imagined all on his own. It had only taken three times. A light smile crossed his face, and then he started up his truck.

Concerning her address, he knew the street name. It was in a neighborhood that was on one of the patrol routes. He didn't think it was scheduled for today, though. That meant Deputy Raven wouldn't be in the area. He was sure his coworker was suspicious of him already, and to see his personal vehicle in a neighborhood where it didn't belong would make his suspicions skyrocket. Kurt did not want deal with that, especially since he could swear he had heard Deputy Raven call him 'Nazi-cop' more than a few times under his breath. It was expected, so there wasn't any use in protesting. His coworker was as friendly as Alma towards him. He could live with that.

Kurt pulled out of the parking space, and then drove out of the lot, heading east. It wouldn't take a whole lot of time to get there. Still, it was a residential—pretty high standing—so his slightly rusted truck would stick out like a thumb. She probably had a driveway. Would he be allowed to park there? He shouldn't. It was probably best if he parked a little ways from her house. Alison didn't want anyone to know about them. She didn't want their association to be known.

For the most part, Kurt agreed. If the Brotherhood caught wind… He couldn't allow that to happen. Other times, though, he caught himself imagining taking her out. For financial reasons. Of course. Alison loved to eat. It had been weeks, but he still found it strange to buy food for two. Cook for two. Honestly, he was beginning to suspect she only wanted him around for his culinary skills. His spare funds had gone to getting more things to cook for her. He didn't really mind, though.

Spending time with Alison Medding was worth… anything. Still, sometimes, he wanted to get something quick and cheap instead of the 'extravagant' meals he cooked every other night. No one had ever called his cooking extravagant before. Well, he supposed no one ever had the chance to. Except the Millers, and that had been when he had initially began learning. Kurt squeezed his eyes his shut, just for a moment, to focus on his breathing and nothing else. It had gotten… less painful to think about that family. At the very least, he no longer had the urge to vomit when thinking about them.

To be honest, it had mostly everything to do with Alison. Aside from meditating with him sometimes, she would also randomly mention members of the family during their casual talks. At first, it had jarred him every single time. Eventually, though, his heart had stopped clenching painfully, and he had begun to answer her questions—and replying to her comments—with minimal strain. Every time he had done so, he had been awarded with a smug-like smile. Kurt knew her motivation behind it. She intended to make him remember the little, good things so that he wouldn't always remember the giant bad thing. It worked for the most part. Naomi was harder to talk about than the others. Still, it was better than it had been. He would always be grateful to her. She didn't have to do anything for him, but she did anyway. Now he had the chance to do something for her. Something that didn't require cooking, he hoped.

A chuckle slipped out as he turned left, finally making it to her street. Alison had told him over the phone that her house was at the very end. The end happened to be a cul-de-sac, with her house being at the center. Kurt parked his truck near her mailbox. Her car took up both places in the driveway. Clearing his throat, he pulled his key from the ignition and quickly exited his vehicle. His eyes scanned the surrounding area as he made his way to the door of the house.

Kurt raised his hand to knock, but before he could, the door swung open. Alison stood there in a large black t-shirt with a white capital 'A' and a circle around it on the chest, and pink yoga pants. He assumed they were yoga pants by the way they hugged her thighs and flared out at the ends. Her feet were uncovered, revealing painted blue toenails. It was the most casual he had ever seen her. Normally, it was strictly business or business casual. Distractedly, he thought she looked different, especially with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. "Bunker…!" Alison's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes refocused on her face. Before he could greet her, her fingers reached out to grip the front of his uniform. She pulled him inside and hurriedly shut the door.

Not saying another word to him, she turned on her heel and went further into the house. Kurt could only blink once in confusion before following after her. She went down the hall and turned left, so he did the same. He found her, in what appeared to be a living room, leaning against the back of a two-seater white couch and looking through the blinds of the window behind the couch. He stood there for a moment, wondering what her actions could mean. She seemed almost agitated. Kurt slowly moved towards her, bypassing the bigger white couch in the middle of the room. He stood behind her, slightly leaning so that he could get a good look outside, too.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Besides his truck, anyway. There were no other vehicles parked on the street. There weren't any people taking a stroll either. What had made Alison so jumpy? Kurt opened his mouth to ask, but a familiar scent caught his nose. He leaned closer to Alison, realizing it was coming from her. It wasn't her normal perfume. It didn't seem like perfume at all. Probably a body wash. Had she just showered? It seemed so familiar to him. Shutting his eyes, he tried to remember where he'd- Oh. Vanilla extract. Not as potent, though. More sweet smelling and nice.

It took Alison's heavy sigh in order for Kurt to realize he had been standing too close with his nose a mere inch away from the top of her head. He quickly reared back and took more than two steps away. Fortunately, Alison didn't seem to notice. She turned, and then plopped herself down on the couch. She let out another sigh, not acknowledging him at all. "… Ali… Alison…?" He shifted his weight when she slowly turned her gaze on him. "What's going on?"

Her eyes shifted to the side and she licked her lower lip. Kurt waited patiently for her to speak. "Sit down," she said. He backed up again, attempting to locate the arm of the couch behind him. Noticing his attempt, Alison narrowed her eyes up at him. "Bunker…" Her voice came like a warning, causing him to freeze. He sheepishly walked forward, and then sat down beside her. That had taken some getting used to as well. Being next to her that is. More than just a few times, their arms had touched because of the small couch he owned. He had to pretend, every time, that he hadn't been affected by it. Had to pretend to ignore it. Alison shifted her body, facing him. She looked through the partially opened blinds before turning her full attention to him. "I… I'm being followed."

" _What_?" He wasn't aware if he had shouted or not. Alison's expression remained perfectly neutral, so he couldn't tell. But his mind had already been reeling with: Who the _fuck_ would dare?! She could take care of herself, Kurt knew that already, but he would still beat the shit out of _anyone_ who would be stupid enough to try to hurt her. Christ… What if it was the Brotherhood? No, they had been careful. _He_ had been careful. No one realized that he was back home yet. Even if they had, they shouldn't be able to find his apartment. At least not this quickly. They definitely shouldn't have caught wind of his association with Alison. He would kill them all if _anything_ -

"Bunker…!" She touched his arm and Kurt snapped out of the spiral of white hot fury. He swallowed hard, and then took a deep breath. Once he successfully calmed himself—he was becoming so much better at doing that without needing to cause harm—Alison returned her hand to her lap. "It's not the Brotherhood. They've never come after me even after putting away quite a few of them. It's not them. I…" She hesitated. "I saw who it was. Well, I caught a glimpse of him."

"Who is it?" Kurt asked.

"A man by the name of Clay Burton," she answered. "He has a very distinct look, so I'm pretty certain it was him. Have you heard of him yet?" He nodded. The man was closely associated with Kai Proctor. He had as many—if not more—suspicious activities as Proctor did. The most recent had to do with the disappearance of Nola Longshadow. The woman had last been seen heading over to the estate, according to the report he had read. She hadn't been seen since and around the time, Burton had been the only one home, but there had been no incriminating evidence to go on. No reason to investigate further apparently. Disappearing cases often became cold.

"Proctor's assistant," Kurt said out loud.

"If the rumors are to be believed, his personal bodyguard as well," Alison mentioned.

"Why would he be following you? When did you notice?"

"… A few days ago, I guess," she muttered, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I didn't find seeing the same car suspicious, since it's a small town, so…" She shrugged a bit. "I ignored it. Until today. I ate lunch here, but as I was about to leave, I saw the car again. Normally, it would just be parked near where I work, but today…" She bit her lower lip, body becoming tense. "It was parked just outside my neighbor's house. The window was rolled down and I saw his face."

"Did he do anything?"

"No, he didn't, but he stayed there for fifteen minutes before I called you," Alison explained. "Stayed another ten minutes after I called the Mayor to let him know I needed to stay home today. He might have left ten minutes after that. I'm not sure." Kurt felt his teeth clench. He had never seen her so… fretful.

"Do you know why he would be following you?" he repeated. She shook her head. "Maybe something to do with his boss?"

"Maybe… but that wouldn't make sense," Alison muttered. "I'm not dealing with anything involving Proctor anymore, so-" She suddenly stopped, turning her eyes away from him. A thought had struck her. "This doesn't make sense either…" Her mumble was barely heard. She visibly swallowed, and then looked at him again. "Do you remember that night when all of us were trapped?"

Of course he remembered that night. He still dreamt of that night. Sometimes, it played out the same. Other times, though, Alison would help him stand after she shot the Redbone that had almost killed him. She would pressed her hand firmly to his bleeding abdomen. She would look him in the eye, not saying a word. Sometimes, she would drop the shotgun and press his back against the wall. Still staring and not speaking. They would stare into each other's eyes while the world around them slowed down. And then… Then nothing. He would wake up. That's it.

"What about it?" Kurt asked after shaking remnants of his dream away. Alison chewed at her lower lip, looking away from him again.

"I would have died had it not been for Proctor," she said simply. He stared at her in stunned silence. Died…? _Her_? If that had happened, then… He would have died, too. "He saved me when he didn't have to. It doesn't make any sense to me because he had to have known I wanted to put him away just as much as the Sheriff. Getting rid of me would have halted his day in court or even postponed it indefinitely. But he chose to do it. I wondered why, but…"

"You think Proctor is the one that ordered Burton to follow you? An intimidation tactic?"

"Like I said, it wouldn't make sense. Everything we had on Proctor went out the window as soon as the Sheriff let him go that night," Alison stated. "And since he has his hand in just about everything, he would know that. So why would he choose to have me followed?" Kurt stayed silent. He didn't know the answer any more than she knew. But… The man had saved her life for a reason, and now he was having her tailed for a reason. It made him uneasy. He could understand Alison's actions now. Not only was she anxious, she was confused as well. "Could you do me a favor, Bunker?" He nodded his head almost immediately. "Could you…" She sighed. "Check into it for me? You don't have to find out his motivations, but it would make me feel better if-"

"Anything," Kurt interrupted. "I mean, I'll do it." She smiled at him. It had been weeks, and yet her smile was still something he looked forward to. Still something he actively tried to make happen. In a way, he had become greedy for it. "So… I guess I'll head back to the station to start." He moved to stand, and Alison stood with him.

"Can't you stay a bit longer?" she asked.

"… I'm… I'm still on duty," he replied, feeling a bit surprised that she wanted him to stay. Alison cocked her eyebrow at his feeble protest. She crossed her arms, looking very much unimpressed.

"It's not a busy day, Bunker—you said so yourself," she mentioned. "At least stay for a movie. I've been wanting to show you _The Avengers_ for a while now. Still can't believe you haven't seen it yet…" When he didn't respond right away, she took hold of his hand and led him over to the other couch—three cushioned—which had a coffee table in front of it and an entertainment center in front of that. He didn't flinch anymore when she touched him. She sat him down and smirked. Kurt tensed for a reason he did not know. "Come on, I'm sure Alma will radio in if you're needed elsewhere. It's not like I'm forcing you to ignore your job."

"Okay," he conceded. Her smile grew and she turned to set up the movie, remarking that he was going to like it and that she would explain character backgrounds so he could understand references. While she rummaged through the television cabinets, Kurt smiled at her. He had meant what he said. He would do anything for Alison. Especially if it meant she could feel at ease. He wouldn't stop at just 'checking into it,' though. If need be, he would confront Kai Procter and ask for him to stop whatever he intended to do. Once. He would ask just once. If it required more…

Well, the Brotherhood wouldn't be the only thing he destroyed.

0-0

The next day, Kurt sat at his desk, hunched over various case files involving Proctor. He hadn't found anything sufficient. He wasn't adept at using a computer, so he hadn't bothered to use it. The man had been arrested a few times, charged with petty things. Any prosecutor that handled any of his cases either backed out or didn't get a chance in court. Alison had not been one of those prosecutors. Actually, only after she had become the District Attorney had she had anything to do with Proctor. They might as well still be strangers. So the question remained. Why had he saved her?

That was the question, but honestly, Kurt didn't care for the answer. What really had him going was Proctor's intention towards Alison. He had saved her. Confusing, but not unexplainable. He could have thought keeping a person alive on 'their side' would increase the chance of survival. It could have been as simple as appealing to good graces so that he wouldn't be shot on sight for escaping his cell. Keeping tabs on her afterwards, though? That was the issue. There was no reason for him to do that.

There was no indication, in his criminal history, at least, that showed any reason for him to save _and_ keep track of Alison Medding. The two had no obvious relation. He doubted she would lie or hold back about a situation like this, especially since she had asked him to check into it for her. That meant he would have to go directly to the source. If he found out answers—fine, but his primary concern was to make him stop the tracking. It could lead to him. He didn't want their… secret to be discovered any more than Alison did. It would be more problematic than not, so it would be better to nip this in the bud. For now, he just had to wait until his coworker came back from lunch. Shouldn't be too much longer now, and then he could go 'patrol.'

As if prompted, Deputy Billy Raven walked in, fingers flicking at his mouth in an attempt to wipe away the crumbs from his meal. Kurt began gathering the files into a pile on his desk. Once they were stacked, he opened his bottom drawer, and then tucked them inside. It would put them away properly once he came back to the station. He had been waiting all day for this. He stood up, which, of course, caught Raven's attention. "Heading for lunch?" he asked. Kurt halted, a little dumbfounded that the man spoke to him. Usually, all he got from his fellow deputy was the side-eye. "They have a special today."

" _Uh_ … No, sir," he answered. He cleared his throat. "Just going to take one of the cruisers out." Raven crossed his arms. Shit.

"Got somewhere to be?"

"Yes, sir," Kurt replied. He was beginning to feel nervous. "There was a… a call I'm following up on." Damn. He had already messed up the white lie. Raven narrowed his eyes, seemingly suspicious. That made him more nervous. "It shouldn't take too long, sir."

"Mind if I tag along?"

"Sir…?"

"You're following up on a call, right? That means you're going to someone's house or a place of business. You're going to need backup. Because of how you look, someone's got to be there to soften the blow." This was the longest conversation he had had with Raven. More than that, he was attempting to be in close proximity. Why did he choose _now_ to do this? "What? Is there a reason I can't go?" He must have seen the grimace Kurt had been trying to contain.

"No, sir," he replied.

"Great, let's go," Raven said, and then turned away to leave again. Kurt stood stiffly for a moment before ultimately deciding he didn't have a choice at the moment. He breathed in deeply through his nose before following his fellow deputy out of the office space. He suppose _threatening_ Proctor was out of the question now. At least in front of Raven… Kurt pursed his lips before forcing his expression calm. He sighed again, and then headed out, following the steps of his suddenly sociable coworker.

When he exited the CADI, he noticed Raven was already in a cruiser, buckling his seatbelt on the passenger side. Kurt tried hard not to sigh again. He walked over and opened up the driver's door. As he was settling in, he felt the eyes of his coworker on him. It hadn't been the first time. It wasn't the skin-tingling stares he felt—still felt occasionally—with Alison, but it was noticeable. Ignorable, too. Big difference. So the two headed out in total silence. Raven with his staring and Kurt with his ignoring.

Five minutes into the drive, Raven apparently couldn't hold on to the silence anymore. "Where are we going?" he asked. Kurt shifted in his seat a little, glanced at his coworker—who was still staring—and then gave a simple reply. "Proctor's…?! Why would Proctor call?"

"It wasn't him, sir," he stated. "The call was from a woman. She said a man matching the description of his personal assistant has been following her. I… I was going to ask a few questions."

"Clay Burton?" Raven questioned. Kurt simply nodded his head. "There's rumors that he's like a crazy guard dog." He leaned back in his seat and finally shifted his gaze to the windshield. "People say he's unsettling, and I can't say I disagree." Kurt wondered if it added to Alison's 'distinct' description of him. He would see soon enough. "Anyway, you know this woman?" Kurt cleared his throat, eyes focused on the road ahead of him. His mind, however, conjured images of the District Attorney. Her smiles. Her laughter. Her eyes as she looked at him in silence.

"No, sir," he responded, and then cleared his throat again. "It was an anonymous call. She didn't want to give out her information." Raven didn't react for a moment. Kurt glanced at him to see the frown on his face. Had he realized it was a lie?

"That's actually smart," he finally said. Kurt almost let out a sigh of relief. "Anything involving Proctor would be dangerous so I hear. If Chayton hadn't… that night…" Raven stopped talking for a moment. Just a moment. "Well, it's probably a good thing this woman didn't step forward." Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Kurt noticed his fellow deputy massaging his shoulder. Despite the resistance he had had with pretty much everyone, he decided to ask if Raven was alright. "I'm fine," he muttered, dropping his hand. His answer had been expectedly terse. Kurt went back to focusing on driving. They drove in silence for just a few minutes before Raven opened his mouth again. "So… you seem to be settling in nicely."

Kurt shut his eyes for a moment and remembered to breathe. He did not understand his fellow deputy's motivations right now. He was acting in an uncharacteristic way. This person beside him… hated him, right? Why was he all for striking up conversation now? It was confusing. " _Um_ … Yes, sir," he replied, once again glancing in Raven's direction. The man had not returned to staring. "It's been fine."

"Fine, huh…?"

"Why do you ask, sir?"

"Nothing really… You seem more… approachable," Raven replied. "Just wanted to know if… things were going well with you." What. The fuck? "Maybe outside of work… things are going well?" Seriously? What the fuck? "Perhaps it has something to do with that phone I saw you looking at a few weeks ago? Did it ever get returned to its owner?"

Kurt almost slammed on the brakes. Instead, he breathed. He remembered to just breathe and _not_ aggressively question his coworker about the nature of his line of conversation. "Yes, sir… I gave the phone back to her a while ago," he answered. His voice had not come out strained. A good thing. Raven hummed noncommittally. Christ, what did he _know_?

"Her…?" he repeated, voice becoming just a bit more high-pitched than normal.

"Yes, sir," Kurt said through gritted teeth. "She's someone who helps me with my rage issues."

"Rage? Most people say _anger_ ," Raven chuckled nervously. Kurt narrowed his eyes at the road in front of him, partly enjoying the sounds of his coworker squirming. The implication of his silence had been enough to drop the line of conversation. Hopefully. "So, _uh_ … How we going to do this? With Proctor, I mean."

"I wanted to question them both," he stated, relieved that the topic had shifted. "Separately, and then see if their stories match up. Put pressure on them, maybe, depending on their answers. Let them know we are seriously investigating this anonymous call."

"Oh, the 'Every Breath You Take' approach?" Raven asked. Kurt blinked, and then looked at him. The man was almost grinning. "You know… because we're the police…?" He stared blankly at the explanation that explained nothing. The almost grin fell. "Forget it—I shouldn't've—forget it." Raven cleared his throat and looked outside his window. He was silent for a few moments. "Anyway, as senior officer, I call dibs on the primary suspect. You take Proctor." Great. He had wanted to speak with the source right away. Maybe he wouldn't have to disguise this as a simple police interview.

"Yes, sir," Kurt replied with a nod. He didn't have to spend the car ride coming up with an excuse to get Procter alone. As far as he was concerned, that man was the problem. He was convinced that Burton had only been following orders, anyway. Proctor was _his_ primary suspect, and he intended to solve the problem.

After another twenty minutes of driving, the cruiser finally pulled into a large and excessive driveway. The house itself was even more large and excessive. Kurt frowned as he parked the cruiser. Kai Procter was a man of luxury, it seemed. Raven moved to get out of the vehicle, prompting him stop staring and do the same. "You know all my paychecks that I've ever had—and will have—wouldn't get me a place like this," Raven remarked as they walked towards the entrance.

"I imagine no one else in Banshee could get a place like this," Kurt muttered as his fellow deputy rang the doorbell. He wouldn't be surprised if this was the most expensive house around. To have something like this, the man had to be more than the owner of a local business. Mentally, he sighed. Proctor probably thought he was above the law. Wasn't going to make it easy if he approached him as an officer of the law… Before he had time to contemplate how to talk with Proctor—more than he already had, at least—the door swung open.

Clay Burton stood on the other side of the door. Alison had been right. He had a distinct look. He could see now that she hadn't been talking about the glasses and bowtie. It was his very presence. With a blank, almost dead, look in his eyes, and small stature, he appeared unassuming. But something was not… right with him. If it made him apprehensive, it was no wonder a person like Alison had called. "Good afternoon," Raven greeted. "I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm Deputy Raven. This is Deputy Bunker. We're investigating a case and we'd like to ask you, and Mr. Proctor, a couple of questions. May we come in?"

"Mr. Proctor is busy at the moment," Burton replied, voice deprived of any sort of emotion.

"It won't take too long," Kurt stated.

"Just a few minutes of your time," Raven agreed. "This is an important matter."

Burton didn't respond for several moments. Then he finally backed away, opening the door wider. "Follow me," he instructed, and then turned around. The two deputies shared a look before following the man into the large home. Kurt shut the door behind them. Burton led them into a room just down the hall. "Wait here." Then he disappeared around the corner. Raven visibly frowned as he took liberty and sat down on one of the couches. Kurt chose to remain standing, facing the arch.

"That guy is really something," Raven mumbled. "You should be glad I chose to interview him." Kurt decided not to comment. His shoulders tensed, hearing the sound of footsteps coming closer. Within moments, Burton and Proctor appeared under the arch. Behind him, he heard Raven hurriedly stand. "Mr. Proctor," he greeted, coming to stand by Kurt's side. "Sorry for taking time away from your work."

"How can I help you gentlemen?" Proctor asked, ignoring the greeting.

"We'd like to ask you both a few questions to help us in an investigation," Kurt answered. "Shouldn't take too long… sir."

"Very well. I suppose I can spare a few moments," Proctor relented. "What would like to know?"

"Is there somewhere else we can speak?" Kurt asked. "In order to get this done quickly, we'd like to interview you separately." Proctor did not respond for a few seconds. He narrowed his eyes and gave a tight smile. He then turned, gesturing for Kurt to follow. He told Burton to 'be courteous' as he walked away. Proctor led him into a room just across the hallway. Looked like another living room except this one had a bar.

"May I offer you a drink?"

"I'm fine," Kurt stated.

"Alright then," Proctor moved to sit on a chair, which was adjacent to the long couch. Kurt waited until the older man sat before doing the same on the couch. "You're the new deputy, aren't you?" Stiffly, he nodded his head. "Quite the welcome you received." When he didn't get a reply to that, Proctor looked elsewhere for a second. "Well, how can I help further your investigation? I'm nothing if not cooperative."

"This is about your assistant," Kurt began. "Can you tell me about him?"

"Burton…? There's not much to say, really. He's loyal, follows instructions proficiently—I couldn't ask for a better assistant," Proctor answered. "Why? Is he in trouble?"

"We don't know… sir. Not yet. We've only just began our investigation," Kurt explained. "He only matches a description given by an anonymous caller." He saw the very slight twitch in Proctor's eye. Could mean anything, but it was a start. "So you can only tell me how he is professionally? He lives here, doesn't he?"

"Yes, he does. It's easier that way," Proctor told him. "But as for what Burton does in his free time, I do not know."

"As your assistant, he's always on call, though?"

"Yes."

"Then you're aware of his whereabouts—most of his whereabouts?"

"I suppose that would be accurate."

"Maybe you can tell me where he was yesterday, around 3PM to 5PM?"

"There is a large amount of time, deputy," Proctor commented. "More than likely, Burton was running errands for me, though."

"By himself? Where did he go?"

"Just a few places around town. And yes, I usually let Burton take care of things alone, and then report back to me."

The man had not looked away once as he had spoken. He was used to being interrogated. There was an underlying arrogance in the way he answered questions. It made Kurt clench his jaw. "You said he follows instructions proficiently, so it would be odd for him to stray from his tasks, wouldn't it.?" Proctor did not respond to that. "If that's the case, perhaps he was _instructed_ to follow a woman from her work to her home."

"Are you accusing me of something, deputy?"

"I am just trying to find the truth… sir. I would rather have this investigation closed quickly and quietly," Kurt replied. "It's our job to make civilians feel safe. If they don't, we get involved." Again, Proctor did not respond, but his eye did twitch more visibly. Kurt shifted his gaze towards the opposite room. Raven and Burton were still talking. He couldn't hear words, so he turned back to the older man. "I'm sure you have better things to do than have the District Attorney followed, so call off your guard dog and leave her alone." His voice had dropped to a harsh whisper. He had forgotten to breathe, but he would not tolerate a man like Proctor to do whatever he wanted. Not when it came to Alison Medding.

"As an officer of law, that sounded a little more than professional."

"I'm not saying that as an officer of the law," Kurt stated, giving his own tight smile.

"Really?" He sounded intrigued, and Kurt cursed himself for not breathing and letting Proctor know more than he should. "And what, pray tell, are you telling me this as? Not a Neo-Nazi, I hope."

"… A good neighbor."

"Well, good neighbor, let me tell you that I have a… Let's call it an investment—a promise, really—to protect. As a business man, I am not willing to let that investment associate with a… questionable person." This time, Kurt remembered to breathe, but it was difficult. Not only had Proctor called Alison an _investment_ , but he also realized—at least partially realized—his and her circumstance. Christ, he wanted to stop this disguised conversation already.

"I don't care," he said. "I don't care about your intentions or motivations. I don't care what it is you do to be the wealthiest man in Banshee. I don't care that you just might be the most dangerous either. But… if I get word that the District Attorney is still seeing glimpses of you or your assistant, being a good neighbor—being a _cop_ —won't stop me."

"Are you threatening me, deputy?" Proctor asked.

"Not at all… sir," Kurt replied. "Let's call it a promise."

Proctor unexpectedly chuckled. Whether it was real or fake, Kurt didn't know, but he did know he didn't like it. His teeth clenched inside his mouth. "You know something, Bunker?" he asked. Kurt hated the way his name sounded coming out of his mouth. "I just might like you." Not something he wanted to hear. "But let me make it clear to you. If something… happens to the District Attorney, being a businessman won't stop _me_. You understand?"

"Perfectly," Kurt said through gritted teeth.

"Good. I believe this concludes our deal," Proctor stood up, causing him to do the same. "It was a pleasure, deputy." Kurt merely stared at him for a moment before turning and walking towards the hallway. Raven spotted him and stood up. His coworker flipped his notepad close.

Kurt didn't watch Proctor. He didn't wait for his fellow deputy to catch up. He walked down the hall towards the door, trembling. He opened the door and stalked towards the cruiser. He needed air. He needed to breathe. He needed to calm down. He needed to _**beat the shit out of Proctor**_. Deal? Investment? Like a goddamn bargaining chip? He should turn around and- No. No. He needed to calm down. He needed… He needed… Hastily, Kurt slip a hand into his pocket to pull out his phone. Swallowing hard, he dialed a number that had become so familiar to him. He leaned against the car and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting through the ringing.

"Hey," her voice came through and Kurt sighed deeply. "Bunker…? What's wrong?"

"Where are you?" he questioned, opening his eyes. Alison paused for a moment before answering. She was inside her office with the door closed. He sighed again, breaths becoming even again. "Can you come over tonight?"

"Sure," Alison replied nonchalantly. Then her voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I…" Kurt glanced at the entrance of Proctor's house. Raven was heading for him. "I'll tell you later. I have to go now."

"Alright," she said. "Talk to you later."

"Bye," he said, feeling a tug at the corner of his lips. He snapped his phone close just as Raven approached him. Of course, he asked about the way he had left. "Proctor's an arrogant bastard. Want to punch his face in." Instead of backing away, afraid of his sharp words, Raven chuckled.

"Welcome to the team," he exclaimed.

"Sir…?"

"You didn't know? The Sheriff and Brock both hate the guy," Raven explained. "Only the Sheriff was bold enough to use violence against him." He chuckled again as he moved towards the passenger side of the cruiser. Kurt raised his eyebrows, feeling more respect towards the Sheriff in that moment. "What'd you get from him?" Raven asked as he opened the door.

"Nothing much," he answered, opening his own door. The two men settled in their seats. "He wasn't very forthcoming with straight answers. What about you?"

"Oddly specific with his answers, but nothing to do with trailing after a woman," Raven stated. He sighed heavily. "There's really nothing with can do as it stands. If that anonymous caller calls back, we tell her to gather as much evidence as she can. Photos, recordings, stuff like that—stuff we can use."

"Yes, sir," Kurt nodded, turning the key in the ignition.

"I'll… uh write the report when we get back. So you can go to lunch."

"… Thank you, sir."

0-0

Kurt sat on his couch, pretending to read. His eyes scanned over the words, but his mind could not connect the story. Honestly, he was waiting for Alison to show. It was a quarter past midnight, so she would be knocking on his door any moment now. He had been wanting to see her all day after what had happened with Proctor. He was still a little irritated with how the conversation went—Proctor's use of words, really. But if the man had been truthful, it meant Kurt didn't have to worry about Alison being followed anymore. It meant she didn't have to worry.

A knock sounded, causing him to nearly jump from his seat. He tossed the book over his shoulder as he stood. Kurt waited for the second series of knocks before heading over to his door. He made sure both sleeves were pulled down before grabbing the doorknob. Without looking, he pulled the door open. Alison, of course, stood on the other side. "Bunker," she nodded in greeting and stepped forward. Kurt moved aside, noting the rectangular plastic container she carried. After shutting the door, he followed her into the kitchen. She set the container down on the counter and turned to him. "So what's going on?"

"Hello to you, too… Alison," Kurt replied with a slight smile. One brow raised before she rolled her eyes. Still, she showed him a smile and pushed away from the counter.

"Good evening," she greeted. Then she crossed her arms. "Now tell me what's going on. You sounded really upset when you called earlier." Kurt leaned against the frame, taking a moment to be grateful that someone like Alison could understand and care about his emotional state. They had come so far from that night in the CADI.

"Long story short—Proctor's a dick."

Laughter burst from her mouth, along with "Jesus Christ, Bunker!" Her guffaws eventually turned to giggles before she was able to speak again. "So I take it you saw him today?" His heavy sigh was answer enough. A grin lingered on her face before dropping completely. "What'd he say?"

"He basically confirmed that he had given the order to have you followed," Kurt replied. Alison visibly frowned. "He didn't say why, but… you won't be followed anymore."

"He didn't say why?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes.

"No, but…" Kurt hesitated for a moment. "He threatened me." Alison furrowed her brow, eyes narrowing in confusion. "I _uh_ … lost it for a second, and let it slip that the situation was personal." She didn't respond to his confession, so he continued. "If anything happened to you, he would hold me accountable and retaliate."

"He said that…?"

"Basically, yes," Kurt replied. Alison looked away, confusion still on her face. She didn't understand why. For some reason, Kai Proctor _cared_ for her, and she didn't know why. She must have questions. She must feel more anxious than she had. Maybe he shouldn't have told her about the threatening…? "What are you going to do?" It took a moment, but her eyes finally found him again. She bit her lower lip, and then sighed. Her shoulders lifted in a shrug.

"Nothing," she said. "I… I don't want anything to do with Proctor anymore. I honestly don't want to know what-" She sighed again. "All that matters is that you got him to call off Burton."

"Are you sure? I can keep an eye on things—make sure Proctor doesn't go back on his word."

"No, you don't have to," Alison told him. "If he does approach me, I'll take care of it at that time, but for now, I'm just glad that I'm not being followed anymore." She smiled, and then walked forward. Her arms slipped around his middle and she rested her cheek against his chest. "Thanks..." Kurt's lips parted and he felt everything tense. No words managed to escape. It had happened so fast, but Alison was _hugging_ him. Still hugging despite his lack of response. She squeezed him tighter. "Don't make this awkward, Bunker. You can hug me back."

At her words, Kurt tensed more. However, his fingers did twitch in response at his sides. He did… want to. Swallowing, his arms slowly moved around her, returning the embrace. They had touched before. Accidentally and intentionally. _Never_ intimately. Never something so simple, and yet so unfathomable. At least, to him. He hadn't been hugged in so many years. Kurt shut his eyes and relaxed, resting his chin at the top of her head. He couldn't remember it feeling so nice. So warm. So… Good. His senses were completely filled with Alison Medding. He could feel her heartbeat. He could hear her steady breaths. He could smell her—a combination of her unique spiced scent and vanilla. Christ… He didn't want it to end.

He felt her shift, though. Kurt slowly dropped his arms from around her, knowing the hug was over. Alison stepped back, lowering her arms as well. He cleared his throat, feeling heat spread across his face. She merely grinned at him, and then turned around. She opened the top of the plastic container. "I brought you something," Alison announced. Kurt nodded, though she couldn't see. He had half a mind to close the distant between them again and wrap his arms around her. Would a hug from behind feel the same? She turned back around, presenting him with a circular treat. "Mini strawberry cheesecake," she supplied, handing it to him. "I don't usually use chocolate drizzle, but the strawberries were fresh so…" Kurt didn't hesitate in taking and eating the small treat. "Good, right?"

"Yeah, it's good," he replied, returning her smile.

They spent the rest of the evening eating cheesecake and talking. For once, he hadn't cooked dinner. It was a night of firsts, actually. It was the first time she had curled up against him to listen to him read. It was the first time that she had fallen asleep. It was the first time that Kurt hadn't become nervous. It was the first time he had fallen asleep beside her. It was the first time that he dreamt of her not just staring at him in the CADI.

It was the first time he had dreamt of Alison kissing him.

0-0


	7. Baby, Do You Dare To Do This?

She had begun to sleep with him. It had been a really childish motivation behind it to be perfectly honest. She had been humiliated, and it that had still burned her like nothing else. It was a revenge tactic. But also a power play. For who…? Well, she had lost sight of that weeks ago. Still, she had done it. Enjoyed it, even. She had loved the taste of power. It felt good. Made her feel things she would have never felt before. She shuddered internally just thinking about it. Sighing, she stretched out on top of his bed, completely self-satisfied. Eyes shifting to the left, she met the gaze of her bed companion. As always, he laid on his side, fully clothed, staring at her. Most would see a blank expression, but after weeks of this, she recognized it for what it was. Petulance. He had hidden it well, but witnessing the same thing every morning, she had learned to see pass the dullness of his eyes.

A soft chuckle left her mouth as she turned on her side, body completely facing his. She rested her cheek against the back of her hand. His expression didn't change. But she knew. Her glibness about the situation must have irked him. The man beside her wasn't a man of words or emotion. His lack of… everything had frightened her in the beginning. But she knew now that he would never hurt her. Couldn't risk the wrath of his master, after all. She was protected from many things just because of relation. She had power oozing from her pores just because of relation. The life she had left behind paled in comparison to this.

Rebecca morphed her expression into a mock pout, mirroring what her bed-mate must have felt. Again, his face didn't flinched, but she _knew_. The first time she had slipped into his bed, mostly nude because that's how she liked to sleep—she just couldn't resist lace panties—he had recoiled. Had nearly fallen from the bed so that their bodies would not touch. He was a rare man that did not—or maybe could not—feel much of anything. Sexual arousal must have been impossible for him. Given his lack of. Perhaps that's the reason she had so easily used this tactic. There was no chance that he would hurt her in any sense of the word.

Especially because of her uncle. It was also because of her uncle that Clay Burton would never reveal their nightly ritual in the first place. She may not have gotten him to keep quiet in the way that had been expected of her, but this power play worked just as well. Originally, she felt she had to do this. Make Burton stay silent while she had systematically grew her uncle's empire. Her poor, shattered uncle—still in mourning over the loss of his mother. Her death had gotten to him, and there had been a decline in sales. There had been a decline in the fear that her uncle instilled within the citizens of this town. It had not helped matters since he was still playing house with that ridiculous woman.

Her dear uncle still had not realized what she was doing for his line of work or what she was doing to his personal guard. It had been nerve-racking in the beginning. She had been so afraid her uncle would come barreling into the room to discover the two of them not so cuddled up in the dark. But no. He had been too busy with that ridiculous woman. Rebecca hoped her uncle would snap out of whatever mournful state he was in and kick that woman out. She had done her job, so she should have left afterwards—not stuck around playing _housewife_.

No matter. Eventually, that ridiculous woman would be kicked out, and they would all return to normalcy. The three of them, living under the same roof, building a better empire for her uncle to rule. Of course, she would still help out. The life of luxury was good, but the life of _power_ —that was worth anything. Even deceiving her uncle for the time being. "Did you find out anything?" Rebecca questioned, dropping her mock pout.

"No," Burton answered.

She frowned in response. It had been a week ago that she had asked—well, ordered—Burton to find out anything he could pertaining to the woman in the photo she had found in her uncle's office. She had sifted through his things, attempting to find another contact. Instead, she had found the photo. It had been hidden under papers of no consequence at the bottom of his desk drawer. The picture had been of a dark-skinned woman, taken whilst she had been unaware. In the photo, she had been sitting in a chair, reading a book, seemingly mesmerized by the words. The cameraman had to be in the same room as her, not outside spying.

Why would her uncle keep a photo like this? A fleeting thought of her being an associate had crossed her mind, but there was not a picture of Hector Morales, or any other contact, stuffed away in his office. Besides, the picture was old. The photo had to be a forgotten treasure to her uncle. She had already known that her uncle had a preference for dark women as his bed companions, until recently at least. But there were no other pictures of dark-skinned beauties that she had found. So it begged the question: Who was _she_?

"Are you lying?" Rebecca asked. She narrowed her eyes. "You know what happens when you lie to me." Burton narrowed his eyes right back and even frowned. A light smirk touched her face. So he _had_ lied, did he? She lifted her hand and reached for his chest. Burton flinched and moved backwards, away from her painted nails.

"Yes," he grit out. Burton continued moving until he was out of the bed. Stifling a grin, Rebecca moved to do the same. She picked up the silk robe that had been waiting for her on the chair on her side, and then slipped it on. Unlike any other man, the sight of her mostly nude form bothered Burton enough for him to confess wrongdoing. The man was so backwards. He had let her slip her hand down his pants, only to shock and horrify her—to let her know sexual advances to keep him silent would not work. She _had_ been horrified to find nothing. But since then, her touching him had been met with wariness and perhaps fear. "Her name was Arita Morgan." He sighed lightly. "She was the co-founder of Proctor Meats."

"Lies," Rebecca retorted. "My uncle is the sole owner."

"Her name was removed," Burton replied. "It was an effort to match the photo with a name."

"Where is she now?"

"Deceased… or no longer living in Banshee."

"Find me more."

"No. She has nothing to do with anything."

"But _I'm_ curious," Rebecca stated. She crossed her arms. "My curiosity _will_ be sated. Do as you're told, _Clay_."

Burton positively hated being called by his first name. It showed in the way he clenched his fists. Even if his expression didn't change. Behind his lifeless eyes was a spark—a spark of something like defiance. Rebecca tilted her head, and then walked forward. She came to a stop in front of him and raised a brow. Her uncle may have _owned_ him, but that did not mean she couldn't tug on the leash. It very well meant she could tug to her heart's desire, and Burton could not lash out. Whatever spark of defiance he had would always be squashed before it surfaced completely. To have this power felt amazing, and Burton was probably the only one in existence that would let her get away with it. The hearts of men were fickle things, but Clay Burton's loyalty would never waver.

His fists unclenched, and he curtly nodded his head. Satisfied by his response, Rebecca hummed in approval. She walked by, making sure to lightly touch his shoulder as she did so. He flinched again. "By the way… You shouldn't sleep in your glasses. They're viable to break," she advised. "You wouldn't want me to take them off when I come in at night… would you?" His glower was answer enough. Rebecca left his room, no longer able to hold back the grin.

0-0

Alison had woken up well before she was ready. She was comfortable and hadn't wanted to move. Despite being squished between the small couch and the heavy body on top of her. Internally, she sighed, even though she hadn't needed to. It took a lot to wake up her sleeping companion. She shifted a bit, and in his sleep, he shifted, too—fingers gripping her side and nose nuzzling her neck. The first time she had woken up with him like this, her body hadn't recoiled. Maybe because her mind hadn't woken up at the time, but she hadn't been opposed to his sleeping position. With his face buried in the crook of her neck and his opposite hand holding her side, it had been comfortable. For her. She had fallen asleep sitting straight up. But him… Twisting his body like that with his feet still on the floor had to be rough. Still, every time she had fallen asleep on his couch, those were the positions she had found them in during the later morning hours.

The District Attorney stretched her neck back, resting the back of her head against the back of the couch. She yawned and squeezed her eyes shut. Three months ago, she wouldn't—and couldn't—picture herself waking up next to someone that looked like a monster. Hell, three months ago, she couldn't imagine being _near_ one. Yet, here she was, three months later, snuggled up on the couch of a man that looked like a monster. She had become _friends_ with Kurt Bunker, a former Neo-Nazi. And it was far from a tentative friendship. Point being—she hadn't minded sleeping over. She hadn't minded waking up next to him. She hadn't minded a lot of things, actually.

Like his tattoos. Most of the time, she didn't see them. They weren't glaringly obvious anymore. That didn't stop Kurt from attempting to hide them, anyway. But… My, how things had changed since their first exchange of words three months ago. Alison was comfortable with him, and she trusted him. The talking, the teasing, the casual touching—all that was because of the trust. The tattoos were… an afterthought. Getting to know him had covered up the fact that he had the ink of a monster. Sometimes, the thought would cross her mind, however. Would… seeing all of his tattoos matter? Actually seeing them like she had _that_ night. Would it change how she saw him now? Probably not, but she wanted to check, anyway. She was at the point where she wanted to see them. She was at a point where she didn't shudder at the thought of them. Because it was Kurt. His _being_ Kurt covered up the ink of a monster.

Alison bit her lower lip as she tilted her head back down. If she remembered correctly, Kurt didn't work today, and she most likely wouldn't go in today either. Weekends were meant for relaxing at home. Gordon would understand. Perhaps she could stay over a little longer instead of heading for the door in a hasty way. Alison shifted again, maneuvering just a tiny bit so that his face resting on her shoulder instead of her neck. The first time he had woken up to discover where his face had been, the man had nearly caused bruises—on both sides—in his attempt to get away. While he had apologized profusely, she had been trying not to laugh. The sight had been funny—him tense and pressed against the wall, looking like a cat trying to avoid the rain. Kurt had kept his distance for a few days afterwards, and that had not been funny at all. So it had become a precaution. Sliding a bit away from him, before waking him up, to avoid that drastic reaction was necessary.

"Bunker," Alison whispered. Despite knowing him for three months, she still referred to him by his last name. That… That wasn't a comfort thing. It was a habitual thing. Kurt had stopped calling her DA Medding a few weeks after her phone had been returned to her. He had been awkward as hell in the beginning, but gradually, her name rolled off his tongue in a natural way. Alison had yet to break the habit—that's all. Maybe one day… "Bunker…!" A bit more insistent, she lifted her shoulder a few times. He groaned lightly and lifted his head on his own. His mouth opened wide in a yawn and is eyes squeezed shut.

"What time is it?" he asked, voice a deep drawl due to sleep.

Alison smiled at what was to come. Now, he still half-sleep. Soon, though, he would fully wake and realized where he was. "Don't know," she answered. "My phone's still in the kitchen." He grunted a bit, and then rested his cheek against her shoulder. Again, his grip tightened around her, his body relaxing again. Then he tensed, jerking away from her like a fire had exploded. Holding back a grin, Alison watched him practically leap to his side of the couch. He stared wide-eyed at her, shame coloring his cheeks. "Without fail," she muttered.

"W-What? I-"

"Nothing," Alison replied. She stood up, hands reaching for the ceiling in a stretch. Her eyes shifted to him, seeing that his body had already began relaxing. "You got breakfast?"

"You staying?" Kurt questioned. She gave a noncommittal shrug, but at his unwavering gaze, she nodded. "I can make us some eggs?"

"Do you have shredded cheese? Bacon? Pepper? You know how to make an omelet?" Kurt gave her a flat look, but it was overshadowed by the tiny smile he gave as he stood up from the couch.

"What? _You_ spoil me," Alison stated like it was his fault. Shaking his head a little, Kurt headed to the kitchen, and she followed behind, wearing a small smile of her own. Their paths diverged once they hit the island counter—her heading to the refrigerator and him going for the cabinets where his skillets were. Sure, he did most of the work, but she did help out with the prepping.

She pulled the carton of eggs out, and then set them down on the island counter, and then went about gathering the other things. The two moved about the kitchen with ease. They had done it so many times that they had learn to glide pass one another without bumping. The first time Alison had attempted to help had been a disaster they may or may not have led to a silly food fight. The last time she had had a food fight had been in college and it was nearly the entire campus involved. It hadn't been nearly as fun as it had been with Kurt.

Smiling to herself, Alison finished placing the things she wanted in her omelet. Huh. Actually, he hadn't confirmed if he could make an omelet or not. Shrugging, she sat down on her barstool, hand reaching for her cell phone. The barstools to the island counter were new. She had convinced him to purchase them a month ago since they tended to stay in the kitchen when she would visit. The coffee table in his living room had been an afterthought. On his part. So sometimes, they would eat in the living room.

Alison made herself comfortable as she scrolled through her phone. Lena had sent her several texts since the last time she checked. The ADA had called her twice. She instantly decided not to return any of his calls until she returned to work. Gordon had sent a single text, so she would look at it once she dealt with her best friend. Lena took priority. Her best friend was currently out of the country. She and Jenna had gone to London to visit the parents. It was the first time since their relationship began that Jenna arranged for the family meeting. Lena had been nervous even as she boarded the plane. And it hadn't stopped once they had touched down either. It was the reason Alison had been receiving these 'What do I do?' type of text messages.

Sighing lightly, she began to reply. By the time she finished, the smell of breakfast had wafted into her nostrils. She quickly sent the text to Gordon, agreeing to his proposal for dinner, later on this evening, before setting down her phone. She stood up and headed to the refrigerator. On top is where he kept his bread. Without heels, she could just barely reached the loaf. "You want toast?" Alison asked, opening the bag.

"Yeah," Kurt answered without turning away from the skillet in front of him. She headed over to the toaster on his right. Their arms lightly touched as she placed two slices of bread into the toaster. It had been an accident. Kurt hadn't flinched. Alison was glad to know their accidental touches didn't bother him anymore. "Almost done—you can wait in the living room if you want."

"Okay, I want toast, too," she told him. He grunted in acknowledgement, and so Alison left his side to head back to the living room. She sat down on the couch and stretched out her legs. A deep sigh left her as she shut her eyes. How was she to approach this? No matter her approach, more than likely the answer would be _no_. But she was worried that her question would undo the progress he had shown so far. Hence why she felt the need for a plan. Alison relaxed her body, legs crossed at the ankles and resting on the coffee table.

She didn't know how long she sat there thinking, but eventually the smell of food interrupted her thoughts. Opening her eyes, she found Kurt standing over her, balancing two bowls and two small plates in his arms. Quickly, she removed her legs from the coffee table. He sat down the dishes, revealing scrambled eggs and toasts. The eggs had the items she had pulled from the refrigerator—ham cubes, shredded cheese, bacon, and sour cream. Her mouth watered at the sight.

"I don't know how to make an omelet," Kurt told her as he sat down. "I mixed the pepper in with the eggs."

"I suppose this will do," Alison kept her tone neutral as she reached for a bowl. Kurt shook his head as he grabbed his bowl. His did not have nearly as much ingredients as her bowl did. "So you're off today?" she questioned, about to devour her meal. She glanced at him to see him nod. "How long are they going to keep you on the same shift?"

"Don't know," Kurt replied, and then dug in to his own meal. "Me and Billy are still new, so more than likely, we won't be getting a shift change until next year."

"Oh, so it's _Billy_ now?" Alison teased. Kurt pressed his lips together and averted his gaze. He had mentioned his fellow deputy before, but he had called him _Raven_ at that time. She had been under the impression that the two deputies had been just colleagues, but it seemed that had shifted to something closer to friendship. What with Kurt referring to him as 'Billy,' and all. Honestly, it was surprising. She had thought he and Brock would get along way before anyone else, especially a minority. "When did that happen?"

"It… Nothing happened," Kurt murmured, clearly hesitant. "He just… talks to me, especially when our shifts drag on. Sometimes… we eat lunch together. The Sheriff and Deputy Lotus have taken vacation, so it's just us two."

"Did you make another friend?" she crooned.

"I don't think he'll ever invite me over for dinner, so..."

"Still, it's a good thing—that he's talking to you at all?"

"… Yeah," he agreed with a slight nod.

While they ate, they discussed simple things. Like the plot of the book he was currently reading, and the wants and expectations of the newest Marvel movie. If they could help it, they normally didn't discuss work. Conflict of interest, and whatnot. Still, there were times that they would rant about something that happened while working. Sometimes, Kurt would talk about the Sheriff, too. He probably didn't realize that he had a slight case of hero worship for the man. Alison would make sure to tease him about it later.

Kurt stood up, collecting the empty dishes. He began heading towards the kitchen, and Alison stood up as well. "You have water?" she asked. He nodded, and so she followed him into the kitchen. She went over to the refrigerator, but did not open it. Instead, she shifted her gaze to Kurt, who had begun rinsing the dishes off in the sink. She folded her arms under her chest, eyeing his long-sleeved shirt. "Hey, Bunker…?" Kurt made noise of inquiry, but didn't look up from his task. Alison remained silent. It wasn't until he shut off the water and turned to face her that she breathed in deeply, preparing herself. "Can you show me your tattoos?" The direct approach it was.

"No."

Alison frowned. Although she had expected a negative response, she hadn't expected an automatic one. He hadn't even thought about the question. His answer had come quick as a snap. Admittedly, his response brought on feelings of disappointment. Perhaps she had gotten _too_ comfortable. She almost did not want to continue this line of conversation. Holding her arms tighter against herself, she opened her mouth. "Why not?"

"I…" Kurt faced the sink again, inked hands gripping the counter. "Why do you want to?"

"Because I'm curious," Alison stated. She took a few steps towards his rigid form. "I just want to see…"

" _No_ ," he repeated, sharper than the first time. It was slight, but her heart jerked at the tone of his voice. She was used to his voice, and his voice had rarely changed inflections. Biting her lower lip, she ignored the nervousness that had formed just below the surface. Still, her next steps forward were cautious. He moved away, eyes focused on the tiled floor. Despite his distancing, his body still faced hers. He hadn't completely withdrawn himself. Alison swallowed as she let her arms fall to her sides.

"I'll… show you mine if you show me yours," she suggested. Immediately his eyes were on her again. Alison didn't know whether to take that as a relief or not. Kurt looked… startled.

"You… You have a tattoo?" he questioned.

"No, but if it'll make you feel better, I can get one—a big black panther on my back, clawing at my skin?" The corner of his lips quirked upward. Thankfully, he had gotten the humor behind her words. Still, his gaze fell to the floor again. Alison pressed her lips together and took one more step closer. She stood right in front of him. "Please, Bunker… I'm comfortable with you now. Seeing them won't change that."

"I don't want…" Kurt began. He visibly swallowed hard. His gaze remained on the floor. "I don't want you to look at me like you did that night."

"We've come a long way from that night," Alison stated. "Besides, you took off your shirt that night regardless of the several other people in the room. Don't tell me you're shy now." Her teasing had gotten her another slight upturn of his lips. "Come on—let me see you." Kurt still appeared quite uncomfortable, but he nodded in head, relenting to her request. Slowly, he grabbed the back of his shirt, and then pulled the dark cloth over his head. Like before, he wore a black undershirt. He pulled that off, too.

Despite what she had told him, Alison still felt her insides clench in panic. The giant swastika on his chest was hard to ignore. She didn't know why, but the ink on his chest had a different feel than the others. It seemed bigger and more horrid than the glimpse she had seen that night. The image was spread across his chest in an honored fashion like it had been the greatest gift he had received. She had seen it many times before on criminals she had sent away, but never so large. Never so gregarious. This person in front of her had been _proud_ to be a monster. Kurt had been proud of his role in the Brotherhood. If things had been different—if the Millers hadn't welcomed him into their home—he would just be another monster.

A sharp breath left her, snapping her out of her observation on the ink on his chest. Well, she had thought it had been her. Alison had managed to keep her breathing neutral. Kurt had not. He wasn't looking at her and he had curled in on himself. He was _ashamed_. Realizing this, Alison relaxed. She hadn't realized her body had tensed in the first place. Without her mind consciously telling her, she reached for him. Her fingertips brushed against the side of his face where the smallest swastika had been drawn near the corner of his eye. He jolted at her touch and snapped his line of sight to her.

Alison blinked once, and then held his wary and questioning gaze. Truthfully, she didn't have answers to his unspoken questions. She hadn't planned on touching. Her fingers seemed to become sentient because, again, they moved on their own. Whilst she looked him in the eye, her fingers slid down to his neck, tracing the image of wings on his throat. She felt him swallow. She felt the shaky breaths that left him. She felt his pulse quicken beneath her fingertips.

Heat bloomed in her chest and spread through her veins. The heat curling within her was something she was unaccustomed to. But it wasn't the same prickly feeling she had had three months ago. This was different. This was… remarkable. Alison swallowed hard as her fingers slid down, caressing the ink on his left arm. The mark of a monster, and here she was touching as though it wasn't there. She should stop this. She should step back and pretend she had never asked to see. Never been allowed to feel. But damn it. Her body would not listen. The fingers of her left hand reached forward as well, knuckles grazing the cross on his abdomen. Kurt's breath hitched as he shut his eyes. He leaned into her touch, sighed out, and relaxed. His pectoral region flexed. The movement caused her to drop her gaze to the giant swastika.

Funny how a symbol of peace had been stolen and twisted into a symbol of evil. Alison traced the markings of the swastika with her knuckles, pressing against his skin. "Did this hurt?" she asked in a whisper, dragging her nails across the symbol. Her eyes lifted to meet his. Kurt stared back, hazel eyes having an intensity that seemed to penetrate deep inside. He breathed through his nose. With tightened lips, he nodded his head. "Did they all hurt?"

"No," he murmured.

"Which one?" Alison questioned. Kurt told her with his eyes. Following his gaze, her eyes settled on his right forearm. 'Fuck all yall' is what it said. The hostile words were underneath a bolded cross. She had seen it before. She had thought it seemed out of place from his other tattoos. The symbols he had on his body were so very much like the symbols on others. The countless monsters she had put away wore them like a uniform. This one on Kurt, though, had never been seen in any variation on another. Alison moved her hand, tracing the skinny letters with her index finger. "Why was this one different?"

"… After the Millers," he replied. He swallowed again. "I was… numb… and angry at everything." Alison continuously traced the 'all' part of the tattoo. He twitched, and she noticed his bulging vein. "I got this tattoo… because it was the only way I could express how much I hated _everything_ —the Millers, the Brotherhood, all of it. I didn't feel the needle." Alison looked up again. It _must_ have been his only way to express what he felt. He couldn't become angry outwardly or it would raise questions, so an _edgy_ tattoo would do the trick. Freshly eighteen, and that's all he could come up with to cope.

"If… If that isn't the reason you left them, then what was?" she asked.

Kurt licked his lips, and Alison followed the movement of his tongue. "There was a church… in Harrisburg… Jewish. A group of us heard about some sort of lock in…" He looked away from her, gaze on the floor again. She could see where this was heading. "I made the call. I set it up. We, _uh_ , pushed our way in, beat down anyone who tried to fight back—most of them didn't. We didn't care. It was just an excuse, anyway. The men were beaten. Some of the women were, too. There were children… They were made to watch. We destroyed everything that we could. Knocked over things we couldn't. The plan had been to cause a ruckus, and then leave. I didn't know why we had stuck around until… until the smoke."

"You… You started a fire?" Her question came out breathless. It felt like her throat had begun to constrict. That hadn't been her real question. Her real question dealt with his actions while in the church. Her imagination was going a mile a minute, filling in the blanks, and it wasn't a nice image. To think of him like that… Jesus Christ.

"No," Kurt answered. "It was my brother. He was there with me. We all… laughed as the people inside scrambled to get out. Then came the screaming… I-" His breaths came out short. "-I didn't handle it well."

"Because of Naomi…?"

"I thought of her, and I couldn't breathe. Everything I've done came rushing back in an instant," Kurt explained. "I imagined her screaming for me. Screaming _at_ me. I couldn't… I couldn't…" He shook his head. "While my brother and the rest of them kept hollering and cheering, I backed away. I didn't… know what I was doing until I heard someone ask me what the emergency was… I had called 911. My brother saw me, though. Someone else did, too, but I didn't care. I told them what happened, dropped the phone, and then ran. I ran away with… with Naomi's ghost chasing me. I didn't stop running until… I didn't stop."

Alison had heard about that. Years back, it had been all over the news since it had been so close to Banshee. Monsters had been arrested. People— _children_ —had died. The synagogue had not been savaged. It had been a horrible night for those involved in the chaos. The recorded call had been played numerous time in an attempt for someone to recognize the voice and call in with information. That panicked, desperate voice had implicated himself in the fire, too. It had been Kurt Bunker. He had been responsible for that tragedy, and then had run off like a coward. It… was a lot to take in. The person she had been friends with for months had been capable of those things.

 _I have done things that would make you_ sick…

Abruptly, Alison snatched her hands back. The heat had shifted to cold and she shuddered internally. Comfortable or not, she shouldn't have- Jesus Christ…! Pressing her lips into a thin line, she took several steps backwards. She did not look him in the eye. "I…" Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. The dry, scratchy feeling in her throat didn't help matters either. She clasped her hands together and cleared her throat. "I…" She tried again, but she had no idea what to say. "I should go," Alison managed before turning away.

"Wait…!" Kurt called to her, but she was already briskly walking out of the kitchen. Her eyes darted around, attempting to locate her shoes. She felt him right behind her. Despite herself, she couldn't help but glance back. He was in the process of putting his undershirt back on. She eyed the visible tattoos, and scolded herself for _not_ flinching. Jesus Christ… This was confusing. This was overwhelming. Alison shifted her attention back to the room in search of her flats. They were under the coffee table. She walked over and knelt down, arm stretching to grab them. "Alison-!"

"What?!" Perhaps she had said it with more bite than intended. Kurt had reared back, expression taking on his 'kicked puppy' look. Alison sighed as she sat down on the couch to slip on her shoes. "I… have things to do," she told him. A lie. "So I'll have to cut this visit short."

"You're scared, I know, but-"

She turned sharp eyes on him, and he wisely snapped his mouth shut. He had no idea what she was feeling right now. _She_ had no idea what to feel right now. "Don't you dare tell me what you _think_ I feel," Alison said through clenched teeth. "Let me decide that on my own." For several tense moments, they stared at one another. Then he dropped his gaze. Kurt nodded and said nothing more. Breathing in through her nose, Alison slipped into her shoes and stood up. She headed for the door, grabbing her keys from the table cabinet on her way. Without a word of goodbye, she opened the door and hurriedly took her leave.

It would take her hours to realize she had left her cell phone.

0-0

Gordon Hopewell didn't know what to expect from her tonight. He had been anxious about it all day. This would be the first time he would be seeing her on this date. Previously, Alison would disappear for the day. She wouldn't show up for work. Wouldn't text or call either. Without fail, on this date every year, anyone would be hard-pressed to find her. Gordon had been completely surprised that she had agreed to his sudden dinner proposal in the first place. He had expected resistance when he had sent the text this morning. But she had so easily agreed, which is why he found himself waiting to be seated at one of Banshee's finer quality restaurants.

With it being fairly close to the town hall, Gordon was familiar with the establishment. Many times, he and coworkers had come to have lunch. He hadn't visited during dinner hours, though. It seemed to be much quieter at night than in the day time. It seemed more relaxed. That had been good considering… Gordon glanced at his wristwatch. He was a bit late—just about ten minutes behind the designated time. He had, of course, sent a text to let Alison know about his tardiness. She hadn't responded, but hopefully, she wasn't too irritated.

"Right this way, Mr. Mayor."

The young male receptionist guided him further into the restaurant. He led him to the far back where he spotted Alison sitting at one of the booths. She hadn't noticed his approach. Gordon waved the receptionist off, informing him that he could take it from there. After the guy left, Gordon sat down across from her. The District Attorney was leaning against the wall, head propped up by her hand and elbow. And also the wall. Her other hand was wrapped around the body of a wine glass.

The image was… not something he had seen before. Alison Medding was a professional woman. There was always an air of pride around her. She carried herself with confidence and her attire showed that, too. She was sharp and observant, and those traits of hers ultimately landed her the position of DA even at her young age. The woman in front of him now seemed to be the opposite. She hadn't even looked up to acknowledge his presence yet. Her clothes hadn't been ironed, haired barely combed, and no jewelry in sight. It was sloppy, and so unlike her.

Gordon eyed the bottle of wine to her left and noted the contents were more than half gone. This was definitely an Alison that he hadn't known. Could this be how she coped with this date? Gordon cleared his throat, subtly announcing his presence. Slowly, she lifted her gaze and stared at him with an unreadable expression. "Sorry if I'm late," he said.

"You are," Alison replied. She pushed herself from the wall and dropped her arm to the table.

"I texted you," Gordon stated. She averted her eyes, and mumbled a few words under her breath. "What was that?"

"I said I left my phone somewhere."

"Are you… feeling alright?"

"I'm fine." She was obviously not. Alison reached for the bottle of wine and filled her glass again. "So tell me, Gordon… Why invite me to dinner?" She took in a large gulp of wine, and the sighed heavily. "What's the occasion?"

"I can't just want to talk to a friend? We used to have dinners all the time," Gordon reminded.

"That was before you decided to awkwardly flirt with me," Alison muttered. He internally winced. That had been an uncomfortable tactic when he had been in a bad place. She hadn't needed to bring up that embarrassing moment. "Shut that shit down real quick, didn't I?" She laughed lightly, and then guzzled down more wine.

"Jesus, Alison…! How much have you had to drink?"

To his surprise, she shrugged her shoulders. Alison gestured vaguely in the wine bottle's direction. "I think that's bottle two," she answered. Gordon's jaw dropped. This was not normal. Sure, it was expected for her to find some way to not think about this certain day, but drinking excessively? It hadn't seemed the route that Alison Medding would take. He had never seen her with alcohol before. She didn't have any in her home. She had never drank during outings, but that might have something to do with her professionalism. Still… "Don't change the subject. What do you want? I'd rather be home, sulking in peace."

 _Sulking_ , she had said. Gordon grimaced, realizing he had been right in his assumption. This was a terrible day for her, and she would rather be alone. But as her friend, he hadn't wanted her to suffer in silence. As her friend, he had been worried and anxious about her wellbeing all day. "Listen, Alison… I wanted to make sure you were okay," he said. Gordon nervously rubbed the top of his thighs. She merely raised a brow before taking the rim of her glass to her lips again. Clearly, she wanted an explanation, and wasn't going to waste time asking for clarification. "We've been friends for a long time now-" Alison groaned in an exaggerated manner. Apparently, she was quite the rude drunk.

"Jesus Christ, Gordon! _Just_ spit it out!" she demanded, slight grin on her face. Oh, she had only been teasing. "Seriously, I'm going to leave if you don't tell me." Or had she? Whatever the case, she was in no condition be to driving anywhere. Despite the lack of slurred words, clearly she was still drunk.

"I know what happened to you when you were sixteen," Gordon blurted. His voice hadn't been loud, but loud enough to almost instantly wipe the grin from Alison's face. She stared, slowly lowering the glass from her lips. With a clink, it touched the table's surface. Alison, however, had not released her hold on it. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go. Honestly, he hadn't wanted to tell her in the first place. Just spend time with her enough so that she could become distracted and not think of her personal tragedy. Yet here he was, bringing up the touchy subject all because Alison had demanded it of him. Well, she was an intimidating woman, after all. "And I know that today is the day it happened," Gordon continued. "I wanted to be here for you."

For a moment, or two, Alison merely stared at him, expression completely unreadable to him. Then the glass shattered in her hand. Eyes wide, Gordon shifted his line of sight from her face to her hand. Red wine and blood mixed and dripped from her open palm. He cried her name, alarmed by the sight. He reached for napkins instinctively, but the harsh voice from the woman across from him halted his efforts. "How the _fuck_ do you know that?" Harsh though it had been, her question came out eerily calm. "There is only one other person on this Earth that knows. How do _you_?"

"I looked it up," Gordon murmured. God, several years in the Marines seemed like nothing compared to sitting across from this terrifying woman. "Before you announced your campaign to run for District Attorney. You told me before anyone else, so I… had to make sure there was nothing stopping you from winning. So I found that police report-"

"You had no right to do that!" Alison cut him off. "My history is _my_ business! You-"

"I had it removed from the records," Gordon calmly interrupted despite the glare being directed at him. "No one else knows. No one else _can_ know. I promise—this won't get out."

"You asshole." Alison kept her eyes on him as she reached for the napkins herself. She wiped the dark liquid from her hand as her expression became just a bit more hardened. "It's not about it getting out! It's about knowing something about me that _I_ didn't tell you."

" _Would_ you have told me?"

"What makes you so special, Gordon?" she asked, shaking her head. He cringed, not expecting the question to hurt like a punch. "Not even Lena knows. Why should you?"

"If Lena doesn't know, who were you talking about?"

Alison opened her mouth, only to snap it shut again. She blinked twice, and then furrowed her brow. Her gaze drifted to the table, and a slight frown appeared. Then she breathed deeply. "Someone who's more a friend to me than you are at this moment." Another punch to his gut had him clutching his thigh. Alison always had a way with words. There were just never directed at him in such a vicious manner. "I'm leaving," she announced, scooting across the seat. She stumbled out of the booth, heels clicking against the floor. Despite the heated argument, Gordon's mind protested her departure.

"Are you crazy, Alison? You can't drive!" he exclaimed as he stood up. She gave him a withering glare before grabbing the bottle of wine. She staggered away then, looking as though she may fall at any moment. "Shit…!" Gordon hurriedly pulled his wallet from his pocket. He pulled a fifty dollar bill out, and then dropped it on the table. They hadn't ordered, but Alison had mentioned the bottle she had taken had been number two. With the way she moved, that had probably been number three. Hopefully, the wine hadn't been that expensive and the bill would be covered.

When Gordon made it outside, he saw that Alison was attempting to unlock her car door. She seemed to be having quite the difficult time with the task—thank God. He moved quickly in her direction and snatched her keys from her hands. "You must think I won't hit you!" Alison sharply turned and held out her hand. "Give me my keys!"

"I'm not letting you endanger your life because you're mad at me!" Gordon retorted. "I'm taking you home—let's go!" Not waiting to hear her response, he turned on his heel, fully expecting her to follow. He had not expected the kick to the back of his knee. "Alison…!"

She rushed by him, heading in the direction of his vehicle. He sighed heavily, watching the woman trip and almost fall over. No wonder she didn't drink. She was a serious handful. As the doors were unlocked, Alison climbed into the passenger seat. Shaking his head, Gordon walked over to his vehicle to open his door. By the time he had gotten comfortable in his own seat, she had finished programming his GPS. "Take me there," Alison ordered. Gordon looked at the address as he stuck his key into the ignition. He couldn't recognize it.

"What's there?" he questioned. Alison merely took a swig of the wine. Pursing his lips, Gordon shifted gears and pulled out of the parking lot. He glanced her way again a few minutes into the drive. She had her head pressed against the window, eyes shut and frown in place. Gordon sighed again. "For what it's worth, and if you can even remember all this tomorrow, I am sorry for prying." His words were met by silence. "What happened to you was-"

"Shut up, Gordon," Alison whispered. "Just shut up. It's not your concern."

The Mayor frowned, turning his eyes back on the road. He hoped this argument did not mean an end to their friendship. He felt like a jerk—or asshole, as she preferred to call him. Gordon almost wished he hadn't come across the information in the first place. But what could he do about it now? Alison was not reasonable in her current state. Hell, she might not even be reasonable about this subject when she regained sobriety. With any luck, he could apologize properly… on Monday. Give her time to cool off—and get over a massive hangover—before trying again.

For now, an awkward silence fell, leaving him no choice but to focus on the destination. All too soon, the female automated voice stated that he had arrived. Blinking, he looked outside. They seemed to have come to a fairly empty housing structure. It looked more like a motel than anything. "Is this-" Gordon's question was interrupted by Alison shoving her palm against his face. Fortunately, the shove hadn't been too hard, but it had still caught him off guard. With her other hand, she opened the passenger door, silently demanding her keys back. Huffing lightly, Gordon maneuvered his hand into his pocket and pulled the keys out. "Are you sure-?"

"Go home, Gordon," Alison said, and then nearly fell out of the car. "I got this." Her actions were very contradictory. Gordon watched her carelessly make her way across the street towards the apartments. He continued to watch as she came to a stop in front of a dark green door. The District Attorney knocked on the door. He couldn't hear, but judging from the tension of her fist, Alison had knocked loudly. He glanced at the passenger seat, noting the empty bottle she had left behind.

Then he shifted his attention back to where she stood. The door swung open. Gordon squinted, attempting to see who had opened the door for her. Through the darkness, he couldn't make out the identity. Could it be the person Alison had mentioned earlier—this 'more a friend?' He felt a scowl forming. The bite in her words still had him reeling. All the years they had been friends, and- Gordon shook his head, focusing again. Alison said something, and then pushed her way in. Despite his feelings on the matter, he sent a silent prayer to whoever had to deal with the antics of a drunken and aggressive Alison Medding.

0-0

Fingers drumming against his knee, Kurt Bunker stared blankly at the opposite wall. Besides the tapping of his fingers, his outward appearance remained relatively calm. Inside, though, a storm had been raging. No amount of meditation could calm the anxiety he had been feeling. Ever since the morning hours, his thoughts had been a jumble of panicked thoughts. Not even Billy had managed to quell his nerves with his stupid 'punny' text messages. Or his thoughtful reassurances that the DA just needed some time. Of course, his coworker did not know the identity. Kurt refused to tell him, but Billy did know the basics… a very watered down version of it, at least.

He had let it slip during one of their conversations. It had been an accident, but Billy had leapt at the chance to learn about the woman with the cell phone. Kurt didn't know for sure, but his fellow deputy seemed to be good at reading his expressions. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that Kurt had been in contact with someone, so Billy Raven knew about Alison, but he didn't _know_ about Alison.

A long sigh left his nose as he shut his eyes. If things continued like this, there wouldn't be anything else to know, though. Alison had left her phone here, so he couldn't contact her at all. With the way things had been left, Kurt doubted she wanted to see him again even to retrieve her cell phone. The way she had looked at him… it had been worse than that night in the CADI. They hadn't known one another at that point. But this morning, so far away from that night… The look in her eyes hadn't just been fight or flight. It had been awareness—an understanding of the monster he had been, of what he had been capable of. Still capable of.

No wonder she had pulled away from him as though his skin had burned. Rejection—he hadn't thought he had needed to prepare himself for that. He had experienced it a lot for the past few years, but nothing had hit him so close. He had gotten too comfortable, and had really started to believe his past hadn't mattered to her. Of course it mattered. It would always be an issue no matter who came into contact with him. Alison had learned only some of the horrible deeds he participated in, and had fled. Maybe he shouldn't have told her. He probably should have left it to her imagination like he normally did with Billy.

However, in that moment, he had stopped thinking. Just stopped. He had barely breathed. Alison had _touched_ him. Willingly. It had been puzzling that she had wanted to see the ink. It had been electrifying to feel the tips of her fingers on his skin. It had burned in a pleasant way that had had him aching for more. And she had given him more. Not just his face, but his neck, chest, and arms. Dreams of what happened in the CADI paled in comparison to her touch in reality. Kurt groaned through closed lips as he opened his eyes. He shifted slightly in seat, willing thoughts of her touch away. He needed to stop thinking about it. It wouldn't happen again.

Suddenly, loud knocking forced the thoughts away. The noise caused him to turn his head, eyes focusing on the front door. It came again, causing him to stand from the couch. He discarded the unread book and it landed on the coffee table. Who could it be…? Kurt didn't exactly have neighbors. Billy hadn't been over before, and he wouldn't just show up unexpected. With it being so late at night, it wouldn't be a random person. The landlord, maybe…? Unlikely. The man barely wanted anything to do with his tenants. Probably why he didn't have that many in the first place.

The knocking came again, more forceful than before. Maybe it was Billy. He enjoyed 'knocking like he the police.' Kurt never understood the expression, and his coworker seemed too keen on not telling him. Frankly, it just seemed like an exuberant way of knocking. With a sigh, he made his way to the door. Mid knock, he unlocked and swung the door open. A silent intake of breath made him nearly choke. Instead of his fellow deputy, the DA stood on the other side. She blinked a few times, and then squinted at him. "Bunker…" she greeted.

Kurt swallowed hard, honestly surprised by her presence. He hadn't thought she would come back, especially not within twenty-four hours. The last time he had looked at the clock, it had been nearing ten. "Alison…" He had seemingly lost his breath because her name had come out as a whisper.

"What? You're not going to let me in?" she questioned, and then clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. Not waiting for a response, she moved forward, almost roughly pushing him aside. Kurt kept his eyes on her as she deposited her keys on the table cabinet and walked further down the hall. It was more stumbling than her normal way of walking. He furrowed his eyebrows as she disappeared around the corner. She wasn't… drunk, was she? But she didn't _like_ drinking.

Frowning, Kurt closed and locked his door before following after his unexpected guest. She sat on the couch, attempting to remove her remaining shoe. Alison huffed in annoyance, seemingly because she could not accomplish her task in her current condition. "Did you drive here?" he asked. She sighed heavily and relaxed, dropping her foot to the floor, apparently giving up.

"No," she answered.

"Did you walk?"

"No."

"Are you drunk?"

"No."

"Is 'no' the only thing you can say?"

"… No," Alison said, and then smirked at him. Kurt tried not to roll his eyes. Still, it appeared that she wasn't angry with him. But maybe the alcohol had been the reason for that. Tomorrow would be another story. Sighing, Kurt left the living room to retrieve a bottled water from the refrigerator. He came back to the sight of her curled up on the couch. He held the water out to her. She merely blinked at the sight.

"Drink it," he told her. Alison stuck her tongue out. "Drink it, you're going to get dizzy if you don't."

"I already ate. Like a _huge_ meal. I'm fine."

"You're not. Drink it." Kurt forced her to take the bottle. She rolled her eyes at him, but obliged his request. She drank it all without stopping, but that was normal, and slammed the empty plastic on the coffee table. Both of her eyebrows raised as she looked at him as if to say 'Happy now?' Kurt pursed his lips in response. Alison rolled her eyes again.

"Help me." She stretched out her hand to him, and he immediately moved closer so that she can grab hold. She yanked him down to sit on the couch, and then lifted her leg to rest on his lap. "Help me," she repeated, wiggling her foot.

"You're drunk, Alison," Kurt told her, shifting to take her shoe off. She merely snorted. "I've seen enough public intoxication to know." He had to hand it to her, though. It was his first time seeing drunken antics where the person did not slur their words. She giggled lightly, and then groaned when he slipped her black shoe off. Kurt shifted uneasily in response.

"What—you're gonna arrest me?" Alison asked. "We're not even in public. I'd sue your ass and win." Kurt let a chuckle slip, not doubting that in the least. Slipping her leg from his lap, she leaned against him in the same motion. With her head against his shoulder, she let out a sigh. "I drank a lot," she confessed. "So many thoughts… wouldn't leave my head." Something inside clenched at her words. Of course. She must have been thinking about it since she had left. He had been thinking about it this entire time, too. "Even though I knew what you were capable of… Hearing about it was… different. I didn't…" She sighed again, and then lifted her head. Cautiously, Kurt turned to meet her gaze.

"I didn't want to be dishonest," he murmured. "I am a monster, and I know you're uncomfortable-"

"No," Alison interrupted. Then she shook her head. "Yes… I mean…" She grabbed her head. "Stop talking, Bunker." The side of her head rested against his shoulder again. "I know what you did—what you used to do—and it should scare me. Make me uncomfortable. But it doesn't. What makes me uncomfortable is… that I'm _not_ uncomfortable after hearing those things. The more I thought about it, the more I thought how strange I've become. I'm the monster." She patted her chest twice. "I'm the monster. And I don't mind."

"Alison-" Kurt tried, but she grabbed his left hand with both of hers. He swallowed hard as she turned to look at him again.

"I see your hands and I should be wary, but I'm not," she continued, fingers rubbing his skin. "This ink should be a repellant, but I want… I want to touch. Why did you let me touch you?" Kurt opened his mouth, but he didn't have an answer—not one that he couldn't take back later. Truthfully, he hadn't expected her to. The thought of her touching him like _that_ had never crossed his mind. Only in his dreams had he ever been so bold. He knew this inked marked him. He knew that it prevented him from many things. Like she had said, her wariness of him had been expected. But… Alison, by her own admission, hadn't felt that in some time. Maybe…

"Don't talk anymore. You're drunk," Kurt murmured, taking back his hand. He turned his gaze away, focusing on the wall ahead of him. Entertaining her words now—having dangerous thoughts—wouldn't do any good. She was his friend, at best. Tomorrow, she might not even allow him to her call that. He frowned, suddenly realizing how complacent he had become. Only after three months, he had become comfortable with this woman. And now that might be over.

"Don't tell me what to do," Alison's voice snapped him out of thoughts of what tomorrow might bring. Her palm lightly pressed against the right side of his face, turning his head to face her. "I'm telling you that I'm not judging your past actions anymore. What right do I have when my past actions aren't something to smile about?" Kurt felt his insides twist. He could feel the increased tempo of his heart. In the silence of his living room, it seemed to be the only thing he could hear. Alison continued speaking, but her voice had become muffled by the pounding in his chest. The warmth of her hand had spread through his body as though he had been lacking heat up until this moment. He reached up, fingers wrapping around her wrist. He felt her fingers curl in response.

"Stop… Stop talking," Kurt demanded, pulling her hand from his face. If she continued, he didn't believe he would be able to stop himself.

"Didn't I just say don't tell me what to do?!" Alison moved to yank back her hand, and he was grateful for that. Any more, and… "It's your fault! _Your_ fault!" She harshly poked at his chest. "If you were anyone else—any other monster…!" The palm of her hand pressed against her forehead. "I would have beat your ass or flat out ignored you… But you are you, and now I can't ignore you. Now I miss you. Now I want to touch you."

"Alison, don't-"

"I said I want to touch." Both of her hands lifted to cup his face, forcing his gaze on her again. Her thumb lightly rubbed against the swastika. Christ…! He had to stop this. He had to stop her. But his body wouldn't obey his mind. Both his mind and body liked the attention. Her intense gaze. Her easy touch. Even her strange way of talking while under the influence. So the feeble urging of his thoughts were almost stanchly ignored. Kurt leaned closer, not sure if she had tugged or he had moved by his own choice. Her fingers slipped down his cheeks to his jaw, intoxicatingly slow. Then down to his throat where she curled her fingers, nails scraping against skin.

Kurt swallowed, and then let out a silent ragged breath. Alison continued to stare at him, eyes holding fascinated curiosity and… something else. He couldn't recognize it, not while trying to keep his hands to himself. With each passing second, it became harder. This was strikingly familiar to his dreams. He wanted to… to touch. _More_ than touch. Christ, help him… Her dark brown eyes wavered, breaking contact with his and shifting down. He looked down, too. It was then that he realized that his hands were trembling. His tainted hands that had committed too many sins… He didn't deserve to touch. Not anyone. Especially not her.

Blinking, Kurt dipped his chin, feeling the shame creep up inside him. It was enough to bring the hazy voice of his conscious into focus. What right did he have? He was undeserving. As he rightfully should be. He was a _monster_ , and just because Alison came close to him—willingly stepped into his orbit—didn't change how horrid he had been. That had been the true reason she had left this morning. "Don't," Kurt murmured, pulling away. "I can't-"

And suddenly, he couldn't feel anything except for his mouth. Her kiss left an electrifying tingle behind. The chaste meeting of their lips numbed everything else. It took several moments after to process what had happened. Kurt gasped sharply and reared back, wondering if he had just imagined it. Alison blinked once, lifting a hand from his shirt to idly touch her lower lip. No, that hadn't been his imagination. His dreams had bled into reality. And he didn't think he could continue to separate the two. Not now.

"That was your fault, too-" Kurt ignored it. Ignored the persistent voice of his conscious, screaming that this couldn't happen. That he didn't deserve this. That touching was forbidden for a monster like them. He ignored it and leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. The screaming immediately stopped, drowned out by the sound of her light gasp. She didn't recoil, though. Alison sat there, allowing him to kiss her softly. Then she whimpered against him. "Kurt," she whispered. Whatever restraint he still had remaining snapped in two by the sound of her calling his name.

Swiftly, he moved his hands to her waist, pulling her on top of him. Alison's fingers slid against his cheeks against as she straddled his waist. Finally, she returned the kiss as insistently as he needed. Scorching hot, her tongue found his, teasingly coaxing an animalistic growl from within him. No hesitation, she removed her hands from his face to pull up her tan pencil shirt so she could sit comfortably. A strained groan erupted from his mouth, causing her to halt. She stared down at him, brow raised. Then she bit her lower lip. It did little to stifle the smirk on her face. She moved her hips, deliberately slow on top of him.

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, feeling her massage his quickly hardening dick. His head rolled back as she continued to grind against him. "That's right. I was a monster, too." Before he could think to question her words, her teeth sank into his throat. A gasp ripped through him. His hands gripped her harder. Her teeth nipped and her lips sucked. Regardless of his tattoos, she painted across his skin using her tongue as a brush. Her fingers curled against his shoulders to steady herself as she rode him so damn slowly. Kurt nearly snarled as he rose to meet her lips again in a bruising kiss. He cupped her ass, pushing against her harder and quicker. Alison gasped against his lips, teeth clashing against his.

So many nights, he had thought of having her like this. Having her gasping and moaning on top of him, trembling as his name fell from her lips. Dreams that he never thought would be possible otherwise, but here they were kissing. Touching. Rubbing. Kurt broke away from her lips, only to ease down while his hands slid up her sides. She slowed her movements, arching her back as his lips brushed against her throat. An appreciated moan broke free as he began suckling her quickened pulse.

Her fingers gripped the back of his neck, nails digging in his skin. The sensation shot though him, and he was amazed by the sudden need of pain mixed with pleasure. He panted heavily against her neck. He had descended into a haze of lust, but he needed to control himself. He needed to slow the fuck down and think. This was _Alison_. Kurt swallowed, forcing his mind through the clouded mist. Cautiously, he looked up to gauge her reaction. Her eyes were shut and her body still moved against his—he couldn't stop his own movements either—in a subconscious way. It was okay. She wanted this, too. Right?

"Kurt…?" Alison whined his name like a question. He licked his lips in response before stretching his neck to kiss under her chin. She moaned again, enjoying that. Rearing back for just a second, she came back to press her forehead against his. "Touch me." Obediently, Kurt untucked her pink buttoned shirt, revealing her brown skin underneath. He breathed out ragged as his fingertips slithered across. Something like static coursed through him at the sudden contact. Alison allowed him to remove her shirt, letting him see the black bra underneath. She shivered under his gaze. "Touch me," she repeated.

Kurt gently kissed her lips, and then trailed soft kisses down her center as his hands caressed the contours of her back. Alison sighed out heavily, completely relaxing and burying her face in the crook of his neck. All of her movements stopped except her soft breathing. "Alison…?" His calling did little to rouse her. "… Christ!" Blinking, and suppressing the haze completely, Kurt lifted the woman off of him. As expected, he had not received any resistance. He sighed out in disappointment. Clearly, Alison had finally passed out.

With a start, Kurt stood from the couch and backed away. They had been about to- And she was drunk- She was going to kill him. In the morning, she would make him pay for taking advantage of her. A trembling hand raked through his hair. He had _taken advantage of her_. Kurt squeezed his eyes shut, guilt bubbling within him. How could he-? He should have stopped. He should have pushed her away. But her words had affected him. And she had kissed him first… Hadn't she? He couldn't remember who had initiated it. Regardless, _he_ had made the mistake of taking it too far. If she remembered, on top of what had transpired in the morning, how could they ever go back to where they had been?

Kurt stared at her sleeping form, noting her parted and swollen lips. Already, marks were beginning to show where he had touched her. He wanted to kiss her again. Kiss her in all the places he hadn't had the chance to this go around. He recognized that having those thoughts were wrong at this point, but… he couldn't shake them off. A sour laugh came unbidden from his mouth. Christ. He had fucked this up entirely, hadn't he? This wasn't a dream. He couldn't just pretend she didn't affect him. Not now. Not anymore. Not after it happened in reality.

There was no going back either way.

0-0

 _Whoo_ boy! I'm back! No, I am not trying to abandon this story. It's just I accidentally submerged myself in another fandom. It has distracted me so much that I create a story about it. My apologies. I've probably been writing for that story since the last time I updated this one in September. Again, I apologize. It was my own fault. But I will continue working on this story because I love it. So I will keep rewatching _Banshee_ in order remind myself how much I want to see this story play out.


	8. I'm Friends With The Monster

With a start, Alison opened her eyes, and then sat up straight. Immediately, she regretted the action. Her head spun, and it took every fiber of her being not to throw up whatever content lied in her belly. She fell back, hand lifting to lightly press against her temple. This felt worse than any migraine she had ever felt. Squeezing her eyes shut, a fruitless effort to block out the pain, she pulled the covers over her head. The morning light had done little to soothe her. At least, it felt like morning. She had no way of knowing what time it was. Hell, she didn't even know her current location. Normally, that would trigger alarms, but this wasn't a normal situation.

Groaning, she curled her body, hoping the massive headache she felt would go away. Again, her efforts remained fruitless. Alison clenched her jaw, honestly wanting to stay and ignore everything else. She couldn't though. Despite the horribly distracting headache, she realized that she was somewhere unfamiliar to her. That wasn't good no matter how comforting the sheets smelled or the feel of the bed. She turned on her side, clutching the covers around her as tight as she could. Jesus Christ, what had happened last night? For the moment, she couldn't remember anything. Except for that complimentary bottle of wine.

Alison felt herself scowling. Wine. It had been alcohol, but it had not burned on the way down. She had thought she could handle it. Clearly, she hadn't been able to since she now had a horrible headache. Had it been just the one bottle? She couldn't remember anything pass the third glass. This was Gordon's fault. Probably. He should have shown up on time. She certainly would not have continued to drink. Had he even shown his face? A heavy sigh let her as she uncurled her body. She needed to get up and figure out what had happened. So with a growing lack of reluctance, Alison slowly pulled the covers from her head, turning onto her back again.

Her eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings. It was obvious that she laid in a bedroom. However, there were no distinguishing or familiar traits about the room. It all seemed so simple. For several moments, Alison focused on the slowly spinning fan above her. Then, slowly, she sat up again. Once again, her eyes scanned the room. Nothing got her attention, except for the open door to the right. Squinting, she realized that across from this bedroom was another room. Judging from the tile, and the sink close to the door, it was a bathroom. Fortunately, she was not feeling an urge to use the bathroom. Sighing through her nose, Alison began to move from the comfort of the bed.

Her bare feet touched the floor, and it was a struggle to push herself from the bed. Jesus Christ… How much had she drank? Alison reached up, clutching her pounding head. She had never experienced being hungover, but she was certain that she was experiencing it now. She took two steps towards the door, and then another. On the fourth step, her entire body reeled in protest. Her insides squeezed and twisted. Specifically, her stomach lurched and popped. Eyes widening, Alison made a mad dash for the bathroom. She sank to her knees in front of the toilet, which _hurt like_ _hell_ , and gripped the bowl. Not a second later, the contents of her stomach rushed up through her throat and exploded from her mouth.

She retched, gagged, and heaved, cursing the invention of alcohol. It hadn't burned on the way down, but it certainly got the job done on the way back up. Jesus Christ, she felt like dying. Alison was almost positive tears leaked out of her eyes. She would never understand people who went through this on the regular. Never. How could _she_ have drank so much to cause this horrendous result in the first place? "Alison…!" Wearily, she turned, peering through the strands of hair that had fallen in front of her face. She breathed deeply through her nose, hoping that vomit hadn't splashed back up and in her hair. "Are you okay?" Before she could snap back—because _seriously_?!—another wave of queasiness overwhelmed her. She quickly shifted her mouth back to the toilet bowl and threw up again. There might have been sobbing involved.

A hand touched her back, sliding up and down as she deposited what was left in her stomach. Another hand tugged at her hair, pulling it back and away from her face. Thank God for those hands. They were doing well in soothing her. Alison gripped the rim of the toilet and lifted her head once the dry heaving stopped. She sniffed miserably, feeling horrible. But she took comfort in the fact that she was some place familiar. She recognized the bathroom. She recognized the hands that relaxed her. She recognized the deep voice, too. "Bunker…" she rasped. Swallowing, she squeezed her eyes shut. Then she groaned, realizing he was seeing her unsightly state. _No_ …

"Hold on," he told her, hands leaving her. "I'll get you some water and aspirin."

Alison watched him walk out of the bathroom, wondering if she had sounded like a dying animal out loud. Slowly, her fingers reached to flush. Grimacing, she turned her eyes away from her shame as it swirled and drained away. She scooted backwards until her back hit the side of the bathtub, listening to the sound of flushing until it was over. The coolness of the tile and the bathtub seeped through her clothes. Furrowing her brow, she looked down, noticing for the first time that she wasn't in _her_ clothes. She now wore a plain white T-shirt and black boxer briefs—both larger than she would ever buy. They were distinctively male versions, anyway. Alison blinked slowly, and then peered down the front of the shirt. She still had on her bra. A quick peek pass the waistband told her she still wore her panties, too. Also her right hand was wrapped in bandages… Jesus Christ, what had happened last night? When had she _hurt_ herself? She was never going to get drunk again! She heard herself whimper as she drew up her knees and hugged her legs.

Minute after, throbbing headache, minute passed until she heard footsteps. Reluctantly, she lifted her head to see feet right in front of her. Like her, Kurt had been barefoot. Alison blinked, becoming aware that this was the first time she had seen his feet. It was an irrelevant detail. She didn't know why her mind had connected that dot in the first place. Probably because of the intense agony it was going through and could only revel in the simple things. Sniffing, Alison lifted her gaze further, eyeing the outstretched arm. Without hesitance, she took his offered hand, and she was hoisted up only to be guided to sit on the edge of the tub instead of the floor.

Kurt turned his back to her, reaching for the back of the toilet. He had placed a bottle water there, along with a small bottle of pills. Alison made grabby hands for the two items even before he turned back around to face her. Once her targets were shown, she quickly snatched them from his hands. "Thanks," she mumbled, holding the water bottle between her thighs. Kurt didn't reply to her. Hopefully, she hadn't sounded so irritated with him. Honestly, she was grateful for his actions despite drawing a blank for yesterday evening. _Never a-fucking-gain_ , she vowed as she twisted open the cap of the aspirin. Not bothering to read the instructions, she popped two pills in her mouth before washing them down with the water.

Normally, she wouldn't stop drinking until the bottle was empty, but Alison couldn't bring herself to do it this time. She still felt nauseous. A long shuddering breath left her as she placed the caps back on the pills and water. "How are you feeling now?" Kurt asked. It took quite of bit of her dead will not to snap at him for another ridiculous question. Instead, she sighed again, less shaky than the previous one, and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Like a group of people doing the cha-cha-cha with my brain as the dance floor," she answered.

"Yeah, I remember what that's like," Kurt murmured. Alison felt, rather than saw, him move to sit beside her. "It'll gradually go away. Drinking a lot of water helps." Instead of giving a verbal response to him, she huffed lightly through her nose and tilted her body towards his. Kurt flinched when her head rested against his shoulder. Huh. He hadn't done that in a while. Still, he hadn't went completely still by the contact either. "What… What do you remember?"

"Jack shit," Alison replied immediately. She felt him chuckle. "Seriously… How do people do this, _knowing_ memory loss is a part of it?"

"What's the _last_ thing you remember then?"

"… Gordon was supposed to meet me for dinner…" Alison explained. "While I waited for him to show up, I was offered free wine."

" _Ah_ , free, so that's why," Kurt reasoned. Not liking his assumption, though it was true, she tilted her head up to glare at him. He had the decency to look apologetic, but his lips upturned showing his mirth. The number of people that knew she could not turn down free food—to her knowledge, anyway—had increased by one. That had been the initial reason, anyway. Truthfully, as she had continued to stare at the bottle of wine, she had thought it might have been a way to numb herself. Her mind, specifically. By the time she had gotten to the restaurant, thoughts of Kurt Bunker had still lingered. Had still overwhelmed her.

But… mostly, she had felt guilt. The way she had left things yesterday morning—it hadn't been her proudest moment since their relationship began. Three months in, and she had reacted at a drop of a dime. She had known what his past must have looked like. The details shouldn't have rattled her mind to that extent. Hell, after thinking about it, the details hadn't been the exact reason for fleeing. It was the thought of her being… relatively okay with what he had described. Not okay-okay—it had still been a terrible thing he had done for shits and giggles—but she hadn't the right to judge. When it came down to it, she had done what she had done for shits and giggles, too. Kurt telling her what he had done—the details of it—had made Alison realize just how much they had in common.

 _Monsters_.

They were a couple of monsters that had started _feeling_. She should not have run from her kindred. She should apologize for doing so. If it had been reversed, she would have been on pins and needles the entire day, wondering if their friendship had come to an end because he couldn't see pass her past. Not now, though. Thinking about it just might counteract the drugs. Pursing her lips, Alison squeezed her eyes shut. Later. Definitely later. Right now, she had to try to piece together her memory. "How'd I get here?" she questioned, tilting away and sitting straight up.

"You weren't exactly willing to tell me," Kurt replied, voice a bit strained. Like he wanted to clear his throat, but was restraining himself. Odd. "You didn't walk, though." Alison made an inquisitive noise, wondering how he came to that conclusion. "Your feet—I mean, you wore heels."

" _Ah_ ," she said, understanding his reasoning. Her eyes opened, staring down at her feet. Surely, they would show blisters from the long walk. Maybe even her nail polish chipped off. There was none of that. Someone had dropped her off here. Especially since Kurt hadn't seemed like the one to pick her up. So… she hadn't called him in her drunken state. Alison supposed that could have been a silver lining. But then it also meant someone else had become privy to where she had been spending some of free time with. She didn't quite like that. Now, more than ever, she wanted to know what happened yesterday night. "What happened to my hand?"

"I don't know that," Kurt stated. "I noticed one of the times that you got up in the middle of the night. You were bleeding. … There was glass inside your palm, but I cleaned it out and wrapped it up. I didn't see any other injuries."

"Thank you."

"… You really don't remember how that happened?"

Alison shook her head. She honestly couldn't remember anything. If she hadn't injured her hand here, then it must have been before she had been dropped off. She couldn't think of a reason why only her one palm had been hurt. A finger from her naked hand lightly touched her bandaged palm. "Where are my clothes?"

She felt him twitch. Kurt actually slid away from her. It prompted her to look at him—actually look at him since she had woken up. He did not look at her, though. In fact, he seemed to be actively focused on the toilet. Because his head was tilted away, his neck was stretched. Normally, she wouldn't stare, but there were dark marks on his neck that didn't seem to be from the ink. They were more like splotches, so much unlike the intricate design of his wings. They were out of place, which was the reason she had noticed in the first place. "They're in the living room," Kurt answered, unknowingly interrupting before she could open her mouth to ask. Still, his eyes stayed on the toilet. "You… woke up a few times… _uh_ … complaining about the heat…" His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "I gave you those to… change into."

"Oh, thanks," Alison murmured, narrowing her eyes. It wasn't that she didn't believe him, but… why was he _nervous_? He was more still and distant than the first time that had had a meal together. It was altogether worrisome. "So my car's _not_ outside then? I wonder if it's still at the restaurant."

"Maybe," Kurt responded. "You still had your keys, though. You really don't remember _anything_? At all?" Once again, Alison shook her head. He finally shifted his gaze to her, looking both relieved and disappointed. Chewing on her lower lip, she stared back at him. The conflict of emotions in his eyes made her wonder… Kurt cleared his throat, and then blinked. "So if you're feeling up to it, we can see if it's there—at the restaurant, I mean. It's still pretty early…"

"Do you have sunglasses in your truck?" Alison questioned, slowly standing from the edge of the tub. Almost instantly, her hand went to soothe the pounding in her head. She didn't think she would make it long with direct sunlight. Honestly, she wanted to curl back up and go back to sleep.

"Yeah, in the glove compartment."

"Good—let's go."

Within five minutes, Alison found herself sitting beside Kurt again in his truck. She fumbled with the glove compartment whilst squeezing her eyes shut. Complicated thing to do while her eyes were shut, but she managed to feel for the sunglasses she sought. She placed them on her face just as Kurt slid into the truck. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes, and then breathed a sigh of relief. With her sight darkened, the sun's light hadn't been as harsh as anticipated. Alison still lowered the sun visor in front of her. Just in case.

Kurt shut the door, and then handed her the folded clothes. Like he had mentioned before, it was still early on a Sunday, so Alison didn't have to worry about prying eyes. Church-goers weren't a concern either. Either they had already gone or they had already decided on not going. Good for her. She was still pretty much in an indecent state. Just because Kurt's clothes were big on her didn't mean she felt any less exposed. She only prayed that the restaurant was still deserted once they arrived.

While he started up the engine, Alison pulled her cell phone from the folded clothes. She had two missed calls—both from Gordon—and a voicemail. Also from Gordon. She held the phone up to her ear after tapping her voicemail app. She frowned as she listened to the familiar voice of the Mayor. Apparently, he was hoping for forgiveness because he had done something horrible last night. The message hadn't mentioned this horrible thing, but he had mentioned himself dropping her off at her friend's place. His voice had sounded oddly strained. But only when he had said 'friend.' Alison decided to put it to the back of her mind. Come Monday, they would have a conversation about what happened. For now, she didn't want to stress thinking about it now.

A grimace formed on her face as she marked the voicemail for deletion. She sincerely hoped this horrible thing hadn't been another attempt at flirting. It had been bad enough last time when he had been borderline depressed and alone. According to their last conversation, he had been trying to work things out with his wife. After too much information on his part, Alison had summarized that Carrie Hopewell and Gordon Hopewell were well on their way to living together again. Maybe it would even stop that brat of theirs from getting into trouble—even if she was the blood daughter of the Sheriff. Anyway, an awkward attempt at flirting might impede the process. Especially if Carrie found out. And Gordon would tell her because he was dumb enough when it came to the woman he loved.

In all honesty, Alison had been surprised he had left her in the first place. Sure, she had a… surprising past for a housewife, but Gordon had always referred to Carrie as the love of his life. Still, she had lied about pretty much everything about herself. Maybe Gordon had believed he had fallen in love with the lie, and not the woman, which had been the reason the truth had rattled him so hard. But he was better now, and a stupid attempt at flirting shouldn't ruin that. Sighing lightly, Alison sent her friend a quick message. _See you on Monday_ , it had said. After thinking about it, she sent another. _Thanks for dropping me off_.

"Was that the Mayor?" Kurt asked her as she rested her phone on top of the clothes in her lap. Her eyes shifted to him, taking notice that they were moving. His eyes remained focused on the road ahead. It was fleeting, but she had an urge to slide over and curl up against him. She could smell him from her position and it reminded her of the comforting bed she had left behind to regurgitate. Swatting the urge away, she pressed her head against the door's window.

"Yeah," she murmured. The audio of her phone had always been unnaturally loud. In an enclosed space, other people could hear. Maybe not able to understand words, but they could recognize voices. She had never thought of getting it another one before, and she wasn't about to start now. "He's the one that brought me."

"He… He knows?"

"Well, he didn't mention you," Alison replied. "But he'll have questions, I'm sure." At that, she frowned, not exactly okay with that. Kurt was still her secret, and she honestly liked it that way. Not because it was safer—well, maybe it started off that way—but because… she was, admittedly, possessive about him. He was hers. Alison bit her lower lip. A month ago, her mind had protested such a… possession. It had just seemed wrong. But gradually, she had accepted it. Gradually, she had begun to like it. Kurt was hers. Her friend. Her secret. Her personal chef—if she were all the way honest. Her monster-man. He was hers. "I'll take care of it next week."

He grunted noncommittally, but she could see the upturn of his lips. For the first time since she had woken up, a smile graced her face. Hopefully, her possessive streak would fade. Honestly, she was itching to tell Lena about him. Her best friend would shit bricks when she found out.

The rest of the ride was quiet. Kurt had a functional radio, but Alison suspected he hadn't turned it on because most likely heavy metal would assault her ears. That type of music would never go well with hangovers. When they arrived to the restaurant, she spotted her vehicle. The parking lot itself was relatively empty. Kurt pulled up right beside her car. Alison, however, did not move to get out. She bit her lower lip again before shifting her gaze to him. He had to work tonight, and she didn't think she would feel up to him visiting. Chances were, they wouldn't see each other for a few days after this. Better to come clean now than to have him waiting in suspense…

"Bunker," she began, and then swallowed.

"You need to stay hydrated," Kurt told her without turning to face her. "Water is good for that. Eating toast will make you feel better. And get as much rest as possible." Alison smiled again, despite being interrupted. He had been taking care of her this whole time, hadn't he? It was pleasant even though she couldn't remember most of it. "I can… check on you later, if you want."

"No, that's not necessary," she said. "I wouldn't want to pull you away from work. I'll text you later, though, when I feel better. Thanks." Kurt finally turned his eyes to her. "I hope I wasn't an annoyance."

"No," he replied, shaking his head. "Of course not."

"Liar," she guessed.

"I've seen worse… I think."

" _Anyway_ ," Alison stressed, rolling her eyes. She heard him chuckle. She was going to let his teasing slide this time. He had been tense the entire car ride. No. Ever since she had woken up, probably. It was good to see him relax. Hopefully, she hadn't made a complete fool of herself last night, and he wouldn't keep bringing up whatever shenanigans she had gotten up to while drunk. "I…" she hesitated. "I want to apologize for leaving the way I did yesterday morning." She looked towards her lap, fiddling with her fingers. "It wasn't because of what you told me—not the details, at least. The more I thought about it, the more it became clear that I… wasn't uncomfortable with the details. I wasn't… afraid of you. I'm _not_ afraid of you."

"Alison, you don't have to-"

" _Please_ , Bunker," she cut in before he could finish his protest. "I ran out on you, and I shouldn't have done that right after you told me what happened. As crazy as it sounds, despite your past… and mine… I've already accepted you. I shouldn't have left like that. And I even snapped at you. I'm sorry." For several long moments, Kurt did not respond to her genuine apology. Suddenly worried, Alison turned her gaze to him. He still had not looked her way, but now he was gripping the steering wheel. Hard. She hadn't seen his _defense mechanism_ since he had started meditating. Was he angry? But that would be a wildly incongruous reaction to her apology. Something was wrong. "Bunker…?" Unbidden, her hand reached for his.

" _I took advantage of you_!" Kurt blurted, borderline shouted. Instantly, her hand halted its path to his. _Everything_ halted. He… what? No. No. He couldn't have. He _wouldn't_ have. "You were drunk, and I… I couldn't… I couldn't help myself… If you didn't pass out, I—we… Alison, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" He finally looked at her, and her mind registered the overwrought guilt in his eyes. Her body, however, had not been so quick. So when he had reached for, she had violently flinched away from him. The back of her head smacked against the glass. "Alison!"

"Don't _touch_ me!" she hissed, glaring at him and ignoring the massive throbbing from the collision.

Kurt recoiled as though she had struck him. But she didn't care. She couldn't bring herself to. Everything came rushing back, crashing into her like waves in a storm. _But that_ type _of evil, I wouldn't inflict on anyone_ , he had told her. He had _promised_ her. She shuddered, and nearly choked on her own breath. But by his own admission, he hadn't been able to _help himself_. And suddenly, she was sixteen again, screaming and crying and pleading. Alone with monsters that took advantage and violated her body. That couldn't bring themselves to spare her despite her only being a child. Despite everything that had made her innocent. Oh, God… She was _sixteen_ again, helpless and screaming. Drowning and overwhelmed. Terrified. And so _sick_. No. No. No.

Not realizing her actions, Alison had found herself in her car, vision blurred, trying desperately to stick her key in the ignition. With a shaky hand, it was proving to be a difficult challenge. A pounding on the window nearly caused her to drop her keys. She turned her attention to the left. Seeing Kurt Bunker, begging her to wait—to listen—made her feel nauseous. Jesus Christ, she had blindly trusted him. Had taken his words at face-value, and he had only taken advantage. "Stay the fuck away from me!" Within a closed space, her shout must have been muffled to his ears, but he understood. The instantaneous stricken look had told her so. He stopped his attempts of making her stay, of getting her attention, and took several steps away from her car. It wasn't until she heard the screech of her tires against the pavement that she realized she had even started her car. It was only then that the tears escaped her eyes. It was only then that the mantra attempted to console her. Never again. Never again. Never again.

It did not work.

0-0

Billy was a patient man. For the life he had chosen, he would have to be. Between his family—where he was outnumbered three to one by his wonderful wife and children—and job—where the threat of boredom was a constant thing, the deputy had learned to be patient. There were times, of course, that his patience ran thin. Like now. Boredom was partially to blame honestly but it had been several days now, and his coworker had yet to say what was on his mind. It went without saying that Kurt Bunker was a private man, but over the past few months, he had gradually began to open up. Apparently, the man was a wizard in the kitchen. He liked to read. And he had a weird thing for anything involving the actor, Will Smith. Billy still found himself chuckling to himself about that one.

Anyway, it had been several days since Kurt had come in, wearing a sad puppy expression. Only Billy seemed to notice his despondent demeanor. Alma didn't care, and pretty much ignored the employee, which was understandable. From the receptionist's perspective, she didn't have to make nice with someone who had so obviously had a terrible past. A terrible nature. She wouldn't even try to know Kurt the way he was now. Admittedly, it was a surprise that Billy had dropped his guard and allowed conversation between himself and the former neo-Nazi. So he was the only one to actually notice that something was wrong. The Sheriff and Deputy Lotus were still out of state on their vacation. They probably wouldn't notice even if they were back to work.

Out of everyone in the department, Billy had chosen to be the bigger person and had actually spoke with Kurt. Underneath the ugly tattoos, he was honestly a good guy. He probably hadn't been, but now he was okay. Now, he had changed from what had used to be. Billy had learned to understand him. Sure, reading his micro-expression had helped, but he liked to think that it had been because the two of them had come to an understanding. Maybe they were more than coworkers now. So that might be contributing to his patience running thin. Kurt had yet to tell him what had happened to make him visibly miserable. And if he hadn't seen the distraught expression, Billy would have noticed in the way he had done his daily tasks. The attempts had been just as sluggish. Not a lot of things had gotten done efficiently. He had been almost completely out of character.

The need to know was scratching, and his patience had ran out yesterday. Time to talk then. This late at night, Billy didn't expect calls. There had hardly been any calls when the sun had been up. The town of Banshee obviously didn't rely on police to keep the peace. Worse than the reservation. At least back home, they would be a brawl to break up almost every day. Banshee was always so quiet, but the pay was too good to pass up, and he had been desperate to get his family off the reservation, so he would stay despite the boredom.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Billy wheeled his chair from behind his desk, and scooted towards Kurt's. The man hadn't even looked up. Not bothering to initiate the conversation, Billy waited until his fellow deputy to acknowledge him. After a few moments, Kurt's eyes darted from the paper he had been pretending to work on _all night_. "Sir…?" Billy sound himself frowning. It had been a month since he had been called that. To think he had gotten used to hearing his first name from this guy. They had gotten pass the polite phase already, so to realize that Kurt had regressed back to how he had been a month ago was troubling to say the least. When Billy didn't respond, Kurt furrowed his brow in confusion. "I'm… almost done with this…"

"You've been almost done ever since she started staring aimlessly at it," Billy corrected. Kurt frowned, but did not deny the observation. "So you gonna tell me what's going on, or are you planning this for another week?"

"I don't know what you mean, sir," Kurt replied.

"Is this about the woman with the cell phone?" His question caused his coworker to visibly pale. Of course this was about that woman. Kurt had yet to reveal who this mysterious woman was, but about sixty percent of their conversations involved her in some type of way. Admittedly, Billy was normally the one to bring her up. Kurt liked to stay tight-lipped about her if he could. Understandable, really. Whoever this woman could be, it would be easier for her if everyone didn't know about her association. As nice of a guy as Kurt tried to be—it did little to alter the public's image of him. "Is it, isn't it? Something happened after she left your apartment?"

"… It's nothing," Kurt persisted.

"I'm going to call bullshit on that," Billy retorted. "You were down in the dumps on your day off, and when you got back, you were worse. This woman effects your mood, Bunk. I've been around you long enough to figure _that_ out." One time, Kurt had pouted—not really because it was Kurt—all morning due to this woman telling him he smelled like a wet dog. Because of the rain. Most recent, she had practically ran away from his apartment after hearing about the horrible deed that had caused him to leave the Brotherhood. Kurt had been agitated because of it. "Just make this easier and tell me what's going on again. I might be able to help."

"You won't be able to," Kurt replied with a shake of his head. "I messed up and I can't come back from it."

"Says the former neo-Nazi," Billy rolled his eyes. His fellow deputy sighed lightly, shifting his gaze to the right. He mumbled something, but it was too garbled to make anything out of it. "Here's what I think: You did something that's making you feel guilty—something to do with her."

"It doesn't matter now," Kurt muttered. "She hates me." Billy scoffed. That was highly unlikely. This woman looked beyond the tattoos. Maybe not at first, but she had eventually. No way she would jump ship after hearing one little thing. Okay, maybe 'little' wasn't the best way to describe whatever Kurt had done. But Billy was confident Kurt was not the type to cross _that_ line despite how tight-lipped he normally was about his past. The point was that this woman had stuck around, and hearing the details wouldn't drive her away. There must have been something else. "It's true…" Kurt bit out. Almost glaring, he focused on the desk. "She doesn't want to see me ever again."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating."

"Her exact words were 'Stay the fuck away from me.' She screamed at me and looked at me like… I'm still a monster." Billy winced at his confession. Monster…? Harsh. And maybe a little accurate. Still, something didn't add up. Why would this woman react so viciously? Billy had no idea when the two of them met, but based on the snippets of their relationship that Kurt had told him, they had a strong type of bond. Her reaction to his _past_ just wasn't making sense. In addition to his sad puppy thing, the man also showed confusion. Kurt sighed heavily. "I deserve it. I know that, but… sometimes… most of the time, I forget what I've done. When it's just _us_ , I'm not the monster."

"Bunk, you've got to level with me. What _exactly_ happened?" Billy questioned. It probably wasn't as bad as Kurt was making it out to be. His coworker clenched his jaw. He got that look on his face again—pinched lips, narrowed eyes, and flared nostrils. That look normally came before he politely snapped back to end the conversation. "You've got nothing to lose," Billy mentioned before Kurt could get the chance to speak again. "If you're so adamant that it's over, there's no harm in telling me. Like I said, I might be able to help."

For a few tense moments, Kurt didn't respond. Then he swallowed. "She came back to my place that night, but she was drunk…" he began. Billy sat, listening to his fellow deputy as he told him the events that led to him wallowing in self misery. "… Then she drove away," he finished, glaring down at his desk. Billy could only stare, horrified. Not hearing an actual response, Kurt finally looked up at him. "I know I took advantage of her. I _know_ its bad-"

"No! I mean, yes!" he exclaimed. "Holy shit, Bunk!" Billy shook his head, hoping to stop the rising panic. Of course this woman had reacted badly. Kurt hadn't properly explained himself. She must've assumed the _worst_ —not what his fellow deputy had _actually_ done. "Did you actually graduate from the Academy?! I'm pretty sure there's an entire class on what not to say to women who have blacked out!" That had been an exaggeration, but from the way Kurt furrowed his brown, Billy could tell he took it seriously. "Stop talking!" he squeaked out before Kurt could get a word in. Wide-eyed, Billy rubbed his temple. "You kissed her _after_ she kissed you-" Kurt opened his mouth. "- _And_ that was still the wrong thing to do, but what's worse is the _way_ you told her! No wonder she ran away from you!"

"I couldn't just keep it a secret," Kurt protested.

Billy shook his head. If he hadn't already known better, he would have waited for the punchline. But no. Kurt was seriously that dense when it came to social cues and interactions. He had obviously been deprived of human contact for too long. "That's not what I meant!" he told him. "Imagine if you—a woman—couldn't remember several hours, and someone—a _man_ —told you: I took advantage. You were drunk. I couldn't help myself." Kurt stared blankly. " _And that's it_!" Finally, the gears whirled at the expected pace. Billy imagined that the horrified look Kurt now sported had matched his earlier one perfectly. "Yes!" he nearly hissed in triumph. "Because you didn't actually tell her what happened—or rather what didn't—she assumed that you…" Honestly, Billy didn't want to say it out loud. He didn't want to imagine his… coworker as that type of person.

"Christ…" Kurt said through gritted teeth.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"… I'm…" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm going to stay away from her." Kurt didn't see Billy's face twist into confusion, but he must have sensed the incredulity because he sighed heavily and opened his mouth to explain. "I meant what I told her. I _couldn't_ help myself. If she wouldn't have passed out, I would have gone through with it. If she… wants me out of her life for what I did… or was going to do, I won't argue." Billy opened his mouth, but realized how much closer the situation was beginning to look black and white, not the grey he had wanted to assume. If Kurt had gone through with it, it would have been terribly wrong because consent had not been given despite her initiation.

That is what his parents—his mother specifically—taught him. If one of the participants was under any type of influence—drugs, alcohol, manipulation, fear—it wasn't real consent, therefore wrong. Black and white. Cut and dry. Kurt must have had similar teachings. Before the whole Nazi thing was so ingrained, anyway. But he didn't want to think of Kurt like that. He could imagine some pretty messed up shit he may have done, but _that_ …? Seeing the guilt in pretty much everything he did and said—would he be an awful guy if he wanted to lean towards the grey? Kurt really like this woman with the cell phone. That much had been clear. Because of that guilt, he was willing to end the relationship he had established with her. And since this woman so clearly had a huge effect on Kurt's behavior, things were just going to get worse. Eventually, his fellow deputy would withdraw within himself, and not even the stupid jokes Billy told him would get him out of it.

"How can you be sure she wants that?" Billy questioned. "It's been a few days… Maybe it's been enough time for her to calm down? I'm guessing you haven't contacted her since that blow out."

"She hasn't contacted me," Kurt murmured, shaking his head.

"That doesn't mean she doesn't want you in her life," Billy countered. The man frowned, clearly unconvinced. "Didn't you tell me it's easier to run? Maybe she's just running."

"Ali… She's not the type to run." Billy gave him a look. The woman had literally run away. Twice. Instead of just talking it out. Granted, her reactions were reasonable, given the circumstances, she reacted with emotion instead of logic in those instances. Apparently, very similar to Kurt. "That was different. She came back-"

"So did _you_!"

Kurt tensed so much that it was noticeably. Alma could probably sense it from her desk. Perhaps he was now regretting how much information he had given since the start of their actual conversations. Kurt blinked three times before, and then averted his eyes to the left corner of her room. "Why do you care?" The question completely caught Billy off guard. He blinked in surprise, leaning back in his chair. He hadn't realized he had leaned forward in the first place. He cared…? When had that happened? He frowned deeply, coming to the understanding that he did, in fact, care. "I'm sorry…" Kurt mumbled, voice tinged with regret. Probably for blurting it out, for forcing something that neither of them had mentioned previously. It was an out, and Billy could have retaliated with a harsh rebuttal, denying such a thing.

"You know why," he said instead. As though not expecting it, Kurt's eyes snapped up in his direction. Billy pursed his lips and crossed his arms, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the slight confession. "Look, Bunk, all I'm saying is… try to _talk_ to her. Come to an understanding, and maybe if you stop running—the both of you—this might not be as bad as you first thought." The frown came back, but he appeared more pensive.

"I-" Before he could continue, his eyes darted down to his lap. Kurt then shifted a bit, hand reaching into his left pocket. He pulled out his flip phone. A slight chuckle escaped, causing Kurt to glare his way. Billy vividly remembered the argument they had had about him getting a smartphone. That conversation had revealed that Kurt was pretty much useless when it came to newer technology. A fact that Billy had playfully lorded over his head ever since. The phone wasn't ringing so the vibration that had caught his attention must have been just a text. Kurt's eyes grew wide as the color drained from his face, and then rapidly came back full force.

"What?" Then Billy's eyebrows rose. "It's _her_ , isn't it?" Kurt hesitated, and then slowly showed the text message that had been sent. _Come over_ , it said. "Respond!" he urged, confused as to why Kurt hadn't immediately done so. This was his chance, and _she_ even invited him over. The man only shrugged, looking hopeless. Almost rolling his eyes, Billy snatched the device out of his hand. Kurt made a feeble attempt to get it back, but the attempted was expertly blocked. "I'll do it for you." It took a moment—because he had to remember how to send a text with a _flip phone_ —but he sent a proper response back for Kurt. Hopefully, she wouldn't know the difference. "There. All you have to do is show up."

"Thanks," Kurt grumbled, though he didn't sound as thankful as he should. Billy rolled his eyes before focusing on the tiny screen again. He squinted at the contact name. He shifted an incredulous stare on him. "What?"

"You named her 'Goddess' in your phone? Does _she_ know that?"

This time, Kurt made a much more aggressive attempt to get his phone back.

Billy cackled in amusement as he pushed away from the desk and out of reach.

0-0


	9. Any Closer And You'll Feel The Heat

Five days.

It had been five days since the last contact. The first day had been spent crying and angry. Second day had been spent in bed despite it being a working day. It had been the third day that a visitor had come. Memories had not surfaced by that point, and even when Gordon had filled on what he had known, Alison had not really processed it at the time. The third day had been spent numb. Having had noticed, Gordon had advised taking a few more days off. The fourth day had been spent thinking—finally thinking clearly about what had happened. There had still been holes in her memory, but… she had remembered a few things. Fifth day had been spent frowning down at her phone.

Alison had, in her fit, shouted for Kurt Bunker to stay away. She had overreacted and had lashed out at him. To be honest, she was surprised she hadn't struck him, too. Still, his lack of contact, for five days, had been unexpected. Before, he had been persistent in approaching her despite the clear nonverbal negative sign she had given. It just seemed so strange that he would comply this time around. No, she understood. He was keeping his distance because of her explosive reaction. He knew what had happened to her, so… it made sense that he wouldn't try to explain his actions so quickly. And there had to be some explanation. Kurt wouldn't… do that to her. He wouldn't just _not spare_ her. Alison narrowed her eyes at her phone and chewed her lower lip. Now, if only he would _call_ her already.

She had some explaining to do as well. But the mere thought of doing that caused her stomach to flop and twist. It was the reason she hadn't attempted to make contact even on day five. Night had fallen some time ago, and yet she was on the couch and staring at her phone, hoping it would ring. She had paced, of course, but only until her legs had begun aching. Meditation had done nothing for her this time around. Alison wondered if Kurt had experienced similar results. She couldn't be the only one mulling and brooding about their last encounter. With what they had been through together, he was probably just as anxious. Still, she wished he would call. At the end of day four, she had begun to miss him…

Day four had brought forth a lot of revelations. About Gordon. About Kurt. About herself. Jesus Christ. How long would she have been in the dark? Ironic how she had lost her memory because of alcohol, but had gained a plethora of knowledge because of it as well. She supposed she was as much to blame as the alcohol, though. If she hadn't run away from him that morning, she wouldn't be in her current predicament. Curled into the fetal position on her couch, waiting on something that… might never come again.

Alison sighed heavily and shut her eyes. Honestly, the reason she had overreacted with Kurt had to do with suddenly remembering something she had thought she would never forget. But she _had_ forgotten. Somehow, being with Kurt had pushed the anniversary, the day she had lost her innocence, to the furthest reaches of her mind. Gordon had unknowingly brought it back. Alison couldn't fathom why she had demanded her friend take her to Kurt's that night, but it had made sense in a way. Maybe subconsciously, her drunken mind realized that Kurt was the better option. In the previous years, taking the day off, meditation, and a whole lot of violent video gaming had done the trick. It had been how she coped.

This year, she hadn't even thought about it. Well, she had, but that had been months ago. Felt like forever. And all of it just came crashing back. According to Gordon, her reaction to him knowing had been less than professional. She had been angry and cold to him. Maybe it had to do with him knowing and not telling her that he knew, or maybe it had been the fact that he had brought it up in the first place—whatever the case, she wasn't upset with him anymore. So she should probably go back to work. And thank him again for getting her some place safe while she had been under the influence.

Some place safe. Right. Maybe that had been the reason. Somewhere down the line, Kurt had become a safe haven. More than just a distraction. And now, apparently, more than a friend. Alison uncurled her body, and then sat up. Another sigh left her mouth. She had come to terms what had happened. That night and the morning after. _I took advantage of you_ , he had told her. At the time, she hadn't been thinking clearly. Not really. Her hungover mind—her scared mind—had translated his words to _I raped you_. Drastic, but that had been the reason she had shouted at him. Reliving the nightmare in an instant hadn't helped matters.

Alison chewed her lower lip before reaching for her cell phone. He probably thought that she hated him. She pressed the phone hard against her lips, and then pulled it away. Her fingers moved quickly across the screen. _Come over._ She sent the text before she could lose her nerve. No going back now. This misunderstanding needed to be cleared up. Otherwise… Well, she didn't want to think about that. She couldn't have that. After everything, she didn't _want_ that. Besides, from what she could infer from her hole-ridden memory, she was the one that took advantage of him. Granted, she had been the intoxicated one while he had been completely sober—consent had been a dubious thing. On both sides, if she really thought about it. Another reason to talk.

Her cell phone suddenly chimed, alerting her to a text message. Despite her resolve, the sound had caused her heart to clench inside her chest. Taking a deep breath, Alison read the text. _Okay. Be there after shift._ From Kurt. Bit informal for him, but it was an acceptable response. She swallowed hard, and then read the message three more times. So today was Thursday, which meant he would work until eleven. So some time after that, he would appear. Alison frowned slightly. Going to work tomorrow seemed out of the question. There was always next week. In the meantime, Kurt's arrival wouldn't be until a few more hours. Realizing that, she set her phone down on the coffee table, and then grabbed the remote. Maybe television would be distracting enough and make the time go by quicker.

It wasn't until her head snapped back that Alison realized she had dozed off. She blinked several times at the television to see an infomercial about some type of cleaning product. She couldn't remember what she had been watching, but it certainly hadn't been that. With a sigh, Alison stood up from the couch and stretched. Once done, she looked towards the glowing blue numbers of her DVR. It wasn't really surprising that she had woke up just before 11:30. Her sleep patterns had changed. She cleared her throat, and then picked up the remote to turn the television off.

She then set the remote back down before walking away, heading for the kitchen. Outside, she could hear the rumbling of thunder. She frowned, not being able to recall hearing about a thunderstorm. Alison flipped on the light. A glance outside of the kitchen window told her that the thunder wasn't equipped with rain. Not just yet anyway. She wondered if she could still expect a visit from Kurt if it started to rain. He didn't very much like the rain. Especially since she had accidentally told him he smelled like a wet dog. It had happened once after a downpour, and he would not let it go, glowering every time it had rained. A bitter smile worked its way on Alison's face as she opened the refrigerator door. She wondered if the teasing times between them were done. Because of her drunken actions.

Just as she was about to grab a bottled water, she heard the doorbell ring. Her entire body went rigid, right down to her toes. _It's him_ , her mind supplied in a whisper. A strange type of apprehension flowed through her. A mix of dread and anticipation. Or maybe it was what true anxiety felt like. Alison bit down on her lower lip and swallowed. The ringing came again, and so she shut the refrigerator door. With each step she took towards the front of the house, the volume of her heart seemed to increase.

A few steps away from the front door, she halted. A shaky breath left her as she attempted to compose herself. Subconsciously, she combed fingers through her hair as she took several breaths. Once steady, she continued on to the door. Her right hand lifted to turn on the porch light as her left reached to disengage the lock. She swallowed hard again as she twisted the knob and pulled the door open.

Despite the mental preparation, her heart still stuttered in her chest at the sight of him. Kurt Bunker. There he stood, just a few inches away. He wore a light blue long-sleeved buttoned shirt, along with dark jeans and a brown belt. Buttoned all the way up to his neck as if it would hide his tattoos. It suddenly occurred to Alison that she had never seen him in anything else. Except for that morning where he took off his shirt. He was always attempting to hide the ink. Always. For her benefit. For others' benefit. Because that's the type of man he had become.

It took all of herself not throw her arms around him. Five days seemed like such a long time. But that reaction obviously would be inappropriate. Because of how they had parted. Alison hadn't anticipated having to push down such a strong reaction that had become normal for her. Greeting him with a hug. Her line of sight dropped down for a moment before rising to meet his gaze. "Bunker…" Her greeting sounded hoarse to her ears. She cleared her throat.

"Alison…" His reply sounded hesitant, but sent shuddering ripples through her body. Jesus Christ, it had only been five days. Hearing his voice shouldn't have caused her body to react like that. She shifted awkwardly before moving to the side. Kurt nodded his head, understanding, and then stepped over the threshold. Alison didn't look as he passed. She only quietly shut the door and locked it. Once more, she had to steady herself. She then turned to face him. Kurt wasn't looking at her. He faced her, but his gaze was on the floor. "How… How are you?" he questioned.

It felt like a million answers rushed through her mind all at once. If she had been any less prepared, she would have started rambling about anything and everything, completely ignoring the one thing that needed to be said. "I didn't ask you over for small talk, Bunker," Alison bit out, crossing her arms. Kurt visibly flinched. She tensed, realizing her tone had come out harsher than she had wanted. Hell, she hadn't wanted it to come out harsh at all. She sucked in a sharp breath, and then spoke again. "Just… Just come with me." Without waiting for his response, she walked pass his stiff form, down the hallway and into the living room.

Alison immediately took a seat on the couch, lowering her hands to her knees. Another sigh left her as she waited for Kurt to follow and do the same. He eventually did, but he chose to sit on the loveseat instead of the couch. She clicked her tongue in annoyance, but made no comment on his choice. He had every right to be wary of her at the moment. His eyes had yet to make contact with hers. This meant that she would have to initiate the conversation. Opening her mouth to do so, she hadn't expected him to cut her off. "I know why I'm here," he said. "And I…" He lowered his head. "I'm not resisting. I'll sign anything you want and stay away from you."

"No, Bunker, that's not it," Alison told him. For the first time since he had arrived, Kurt looked at her, a spark of hope in his eyes that almost immediately faded. Had he been thinking she would actually have a _restraining order_? She sighed heavily. "I didn't mean it—what I said… What you said to me came at the worst possible moment." She fidgeted a bit and shifted her gaze down. "That morning happened to be the day after I… wasn't spared. When you said you took advantage of me, I instantly remembered what happened when I was sixteen… and I, for a moment—a long scary moment—I didn't see you. I didn't hear _you_. It was the monsters that had beaten my dad and changed my life forever. As well together as I seem, on some level, I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to get over what happened to me."

"Alison, I didn't know-"

"Of course not," she cut in. After a beat of silence, she looked up and focused on him. Kurt looked ashamed. "I didn't tell you when it happened. Honestly, I had forgotten about it until you said you took advantage of me. I'm sorry I shouted at you." Nervously, she chewed her lower lip. "But… you still said it. That you took advantage of me." Kurt dipped his chin and averted his gaze. "And I know that you couldn't have meant it the way I took it. You _couldn't_ have done something like that to me, to anyone—I _know_ that. I know _you_. So there must be a good reason why you felt the need to say that."

"I did take advantage of you."

"Stop…"

"I _did_!" Kurt exclaimed, sharply turning his eyes on her. Clearly, he had been beating himself up over that night. "You were drunk, and I should have had better control! I shouldn't have…" He visibly swallowed, too guilty to keep his gaze on her. "If you didn't pass out…" He shook his head. "I would have… not spared you."

"You are _not_ that monster!" Alison retorted. "It was a mistake—my mistake. Because of that, _you_ made a mistake. That's all it was." Kurt shook his head again. Alison frowned, and then stood up and headed over to him. He shied away when she sat down next to him, but she paid no mind. Her hand lightly touched his, and he flinched. "Bunker." He flinched harder, moving his hands from underneath hers. Like he didn't deserve to touch her. "Look at me." Slowly, he turned his head, but his eyes were still lowered. "Listen… I initiated what happened. You just reacted. I _understand_."

"It was still wrong."

"Maybe…" Alison admitted. "But I'm telling you, you don't have to feel guilty. I know you, and I understand." He chose not to respond to her. She sighed lightly, angling her body away from his, gave him a bit of space, though they were still close together. "You're looking for forgiveness, and I can't give that to you. Because you don't need it—not for what happened that night." Still, Kurt didn't say anything. "You feel guilty because you think you're still a monster—that you can't afford a mistake." A scoff left her mouth. Yes. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. She had forgotten how alike they were. Kurt was just at the stage in his life where he felt he deserved _nothing_. It had been the first year of college for her. Maybe even half of the second year. Before she had met her best friend. Lena had been a godsend. "Don't be stupid."

"I _hurt_ you."

"I'm fine."

"You _weren't_."

"That's not _your_ fault!" Despite her urging, Kurt hadn't seemed convinced. Another sigh left her mouth. This was frustrating. Had she been this bad? Alison squeezed her eyes shut. "I… I was a monster, too. I know how it feels, but this isn't the time for your guilt, Bunker."

"How could you ever be a monster?"

"I was young," she whispered, opening her eyes. "Young and foolish, truly thinking I could forcibly take back my power." Alison had told him that before, but never in detail. She was still mortified by her actions. It wasn't as bad as it had been so many years ago, but the shame still lingered below the surface. "It was a year after my father was beaten into a coma. I had a part-time job at a gas station, only as an excuse, really—to explain the drop in my grades. My mother said it was best to… pretend to be normal after what happened. To _uh_ … make it seem like what happened didn't affect me. My mother's idea. For the sake of my father's feelings. He was very depressed after what happened, so _I_ had to be strong for _him_."

At that time, she had resented such a thing. Why should she have hidden how traumatic the experience had been? She had been depressed, too… But as an adult, she understood where her mother had been coming from. Her father just might have done many rash things in the wake of his only daughter's stolen innocence. A good man like her father might have done many bad things in retaliation. Things that he hadn't been built for. Things that would have killed him. She understood the secrecy. How devastating would it have been to watch his little girl spiral into depression alongside him? No. She and her mother had agreed that he couldn't know. He couldn't know how empty she felt inside nor could he know about the little trips to that wide open field.

Alison let out a strained breath, and then swallowed. "But I couldn't control everything, so when my grades starting dropping, we told him it was because of the job," she continued. "I was still a bit of a husk at that point, despite my mother's… teachings, so it was inevitable that I stopped caring about things. That wouldn't do for the persona I put on for my father, so I put an effort into my grades and job. Or so the story we told him goes." Her fingers intertwined, clasping hard. "Anyway, the job had various hours, but normally, I worked afternoons. And then walk home. It wasn't that far away, and cutting through a park was my shortcut." She licked her lips before continuing. "I was seventeen when they came for me again. I read the schedule wrong or something and I showed up to work two hours late. My boss told me to stay longer because of that, so by the time my shift was over, it was completely dark outside. That night… I tasted power."

Lightning stuck, followed by a loud boom. Her heart jerked in her chest, and she might have flinched. The lights flickered several times before remaining on. Alison frowned, hoping the lights didn't go out because of the storm. Parting her lips, she continued. "It wasn't real power, of course, but… close enough to make me do what I did," she said.

"What happened? What did they do?" Kurt questioned. She shifted her eyes to him. He had been staring, attention clearly rapt. She wondered if she had had the same expression on her face when he had told her what had happened to him when he had been seventeen. That night at the diner seemed so far away now. To think that it had only been a couple of months. Alison averted her gaze again, focusing on her hands. She inhaled sharply.

"There were two of them," she stated. "They followed me through the park. It was dark, but the lampposts were bright enough that I could see their tattoos… Their faces were the same as the ones that came for me when I was sixteen—the same faces as the ones from that night at the diner. I knew what they wanted… even before they opened their mouths. It's like they can _sense_ it." A derisive, bitter chuckle left her mouth. "They sensed it at the wrong time that night. They cornered me, herded me away from the path, into the dark. Well, they _thought_ they did." Alison licked her lips as images from that night appeared in her mind. "I don't remember the conversation—there might not have been one—but one of them ripped my shirt, and I… lashed out. Took them by surprise, but they hit me back. My body didn't care. By the time it was over, there was so much blood—on all sides, but I wasn't withering in pain. I wasn't the victim. I walked away… _smiling_ because for the first time in a long time, I felt _alive_. I felt power. And I reveled in it. Do you know how that feels?"

"Yeah…" Kurt admitted, causing her eyes to shift in his direction. He held her gaze, and a crackling understand passed between them. She had asked rhetorically, not even really thinking about it, but of course Kurt knew how it felt. Under the burden of an abusive father—finally coming from under it had to be freeing for him. She had broken free from a victim's mentality. However wrong it had been, she had still broken free, and it had been a catharsis like feeling. "But it wasn't enough, was it?"

"No, it wasn't," Alison confirmed. "I think it was partially due to not being caught for that. Those two had been beaten so severely, according to police, that they couldn't remember what happened. Couldn't remember their intentions or how they had ended up in the park in the first place. After that, I saved up enough money to buy a car. Because I was _smart_. I realized that I couldn't target the monsters in Banshee because then that would eventually make me a target. I used that car to travel to cities and towns _around_ Banshee. Sometimes, I would even go out of the state, _looking_ for them. I sought them out and destroyed any monster I came across. And… It. Felt. _Good_. From the time I was eighteen to the time I was twenty…" She paused for a moment, sucking in a deep breath. She had admitted to herself a long time ago, but never out loud. She might have implied it before, but it had never been blatant. "I was a monster—a vicious heartless monster."

"Alison-"

"I _was_ …!" she interrupted before he could deny it. "I beat them down. Made it as painful as I could. No matter their pleas. Justifying what I did by telling myself they were monsters and that they deserved it. I was out of control, spiraling down, being consumed by my hatred. My anger. My thirst for power that I thought I could just _take_. By going after them, showing no mercy, and reveling in their pain, I became a monster. And I didn't even know it… until the end."

"What happened?"

"I was… walking one day—just walking—not thinking about anything in particular," Alison continued, frowning. "I don't even remember where I was, but the neighborhood wasn't exactly populated. There was… a kid, playing with rocks on the sidewalk. He was by himself. Couldn't have been no older than twelve. He looked up at me as I came towards him. Stared like… I was completely foreign, all wide-eyed and… cautious. I ignored it, of course… But then I walked by, and he… said something to me that I couldn't ignore. Didn't even try to ignore it." She nervously chewed her lower lip. "You ever hear of Pavlov's dog?" Kurt stiffly nodded his head. "Well, I guess I did it so much that my reactions became instantaneous. Certain words became a trigger. One word, and I completely lost my head. One word, and I…" She took a deep breath. "He called me _nigger_ … Probably just parroting someone else, but that didn't matter. I, without thought, beat this little boy. Me, twenty years old, causing so much pain to this twelve year old…" A scoff left her mouth. "And I didn't even feel bad about it after I was done."

Out of all the emotions she had felt that day, remorse hadn't been one of them. She had been afraid because she realized she had 'hunted' in Banshee. The Brotherhood hadn't been as large as it was now, but if they had caught wind of the beating, it would have been a devastating retaliation against anyone with darker skin. If that boy had said _anything_. But he hadn't. Not a peep, as far as she had been concerned. The Brotherhood never reacted to the news. Hell, it had never made the news in the first place. "I… realized that my actions would have terrible consequences, but I didn't know what to do, so I ran home… told my mother everything," Alison continued. She furrowed her brow, remembering the disappointed expression her mother had given her. "She told me I had gone too far, and told me to pack my things."

"She kicked you out?" Kurt asked, disbelief clear in his voice.

"No… Well, yes, but…" Alison sighed heavily. "She gave me a choice. Either leave Banshee or leave Banshee for school. No arguments. No room for protest. Just one or the other. I wasn't even aware that she had the funds. Neither did my father, I think. Within a few days, I had chosen college… It was only after I started meditating that I realized how twisted and wrong I had become. And that revelation almost ruined me. I felt so guilty about what I had done—not just to that boy, but to the monsters I sought out. That first year… I didn't deserve anything. I accepted the bad, and pushed away anything that might have been good. I wasn't living… I was just a cross between-"

"Monster and man…? Lost and without power?"

Alison nodded her head. "You understand then?" She turned to him, slowly relaxing her body. Bringing forth the memories had caused her body to tense so badly her insides had whined in protest. Now that her past was laid bare, and Kurt understood, she felt… relieved. Hesitantly, she reached for his hand again. This time, he did not pull away from her. "You don't have to feel guilty about what happened, Bunker. You don't have to feel guilty for _wanting_ what happened. I…" She pressed her lips together, hesitant. After all, the insight was easy to think about. Saying it out loud _to him_ was proving to be distressing. "… I understand."

"I shouldn't have let it come that," Kurt whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and then let out a soft breath. "Guilty or not, I shouldn't have done that to you."

" _I_ did it to you first," Alison said. To her slight surprise, Kurt's cheeks colored and his gaze dropped down to her lips. Jesus Christ, how had she not noticed before? A pleasant heat whirled within her chest before rapidly spreading throughout her body. She could remember what had happened. But the feelings involved were disassociated from the memory. She… wanted to know how it had felt. Alison silently took a deep breath and shut her eyes. When she opened them, she hoped the want didn't show on her face. "So…" she murmured. "You can apologize for your mistake, I can dismiss it, and we can both move on. Deal?"

"… Deal," Kurt agreed quietly. He shifted a bit, angling himself more to her. He lowered his gaze to their clasped hands for just a moment. "I missed you." Alison was half tempted to run the fingertips of her other hand across his face. She had missed him, too. Jesus Christ, she had missed him. Maybe even before day four. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and get lost in his scent again. However, she slowly pulled away and stood up. She bit her lower lip in a nervous manner, feeling his confused stare on her person. Facing him, she crossed her arms over her chest

"Tell me, Bunker…" Alison began, keeping a steady gaze on his form. She licked her lips, ignoring the way her insides trembled. "Why did you kiss me back?" As expected, Kurt's eyes widened and he immediately constricted, drawing in on himself. He licked his lips, too, appearing panicked. However, he did not answer. He pursed his lips, looking keen on not answering the question. "Okay…" Inhaling through her nose, she shut her eyes for a moment. Then she opened them and continued. "How long have you wanted to kiss me?" Her next question caused him to avert his eyes as though he was embarrassed. Alison bit her lower lip. "Do you regret it?"

"Alison-"

"Are you going to answer _any_ of my questions?" she pressed. Again, Kurt chose to remain silent. She swallowed hard, trying to push down feelings of uncertainty. "Did it repulse you that much—kissing me?" At his almost vehement denial, Alison raised a brow. She hadn't expected such a response. At least, not a quick one. "Then answer me…!" she retorted, taking a small step towards him. "We all have our secrets, Bunker, but this isn't a secret I can ignore… We can't pretend it didn't happen. I need to know _wh_ y."

"Why did _you_ kiss me?" Kurt blurted out, quite defensively. She recognized it well. She had enough clients to know that she had touched a nerve. Asking questions was her job, though. Friend or not, she wouldn't let his tone deter her. For a brief moment, Alison turned away. It was a chance to compose herself before telling the truth. Once calm enough, she faced him again and dropped her arms.

"Because I trust you," she told him. Kurt blinked, clearly taken aback by her response. She bit her lower lip, and then sighed lightly. Her gaze lifted to the ceiling. It was proving to be harder than expected to compose herself. Her eyes looked back at him. "As… fucked up as that seems, that's my reason. I trust you. I haven't… trusted anyone enough—not for that." There had been no one after what happened that could get that much trust. Not those ridiculous men in college. Though she had tried. Bursting into tears hadn't exactly been a mood setter. Not Gordon—honestly, she hadn't tried. Married man and whatnot. Not even Lena—her best friend who she loved more than anyone alive. She had realized that as her reason prior to this night. She had thought of it before, but those thoughts had always been fleeting. She would have taken such thoughts to her grave. Worked hard to keep those thoughts from her mind. Had it not been for the whole lowered inhibitions thing that the wine had caused, she would have continued on in ignorance. "Despite how you look, despite how we started, I trust you. You've become someone safe to me. That's why I came over that night. That's why I _could_ kiss you. I trust you, Kurt."

"Alison…" Kurt stared at her, understanding creeping into his eyes. She pursed her lips together and narrowed her eyes. By the time she _might_ have been ready for something like that—intimacy, kisses, companionship in that sense—she had been too focused on her career. And now… Because of alcohol, the possibility invaded and spread, and the eagerness nearly choked her. Alison swallowed the lump down as she watched Kurt stand from the loveseat. He walked towards her, and her chest hummed with his proximity. "Don't…" He exhaled through clenched teeth. He stood so close to her now that she had to tilt her head up to hold his gaze. "I can't…" He had said the same thing that night. Alison recognized it as a plea to not give him _hope_. She had stomped on his plea previously by kissing him. This time, she stomped on his plea by lifting her left hand, curling her fingers around the fabric of his shirt. Kurt responded by lowering his head. A hair's length away, his breath blended with hers. "Tell me to stop," he urged in a whisper. "Push me away."

It was a last ditch effort. But not really. If she had told him to stop any point in time, he would. She knew that. She bit her lower lip, watching his eyes become fixated with the action. Swallowing, her grip on him increased. "Why… did you kiss me back?" Alison asked again, less controlled than the last time. In the silence that followed, she heard his strained breaths. Hers, too. Heard the storm rage outside, but she hadn't paid attention to that until the lights had flickered again. Rain fell hard, accented with lightning and thunder.

"… I dream about it," Kurt answered. "I've been… dreaming and thinking about it for so long that when… you kissed me, I couldn't hold back anymore. I couldn't… Truth is, I wanted to kiss you back. I like you, Alison." Out of all the emotions she thought she would feel with his confirmation, _relief_ hadn't been one of them. She sighed out, lips nearly brushing against his, but at the last moment, she tilted her chin down and pressed her forehead against his chest. She sighed out again, curling the fingers of her right hand around his shirt.

"I missed you, too," Alison confessed. "… But we can't go back to how we were. It won't be the same." She felt him suck in a breath and hold it. A peculiar sound rumbled in his throat. Like a growl and a whine. Biting her lower lip, she lifted her head and stared into his eyes. Face as stoic as ever, but his eyes were filled with disappointment. He had misunderstood. Alison uncurled her fingers and slid them up. "After that, I don't want the same." Hands on his shoulders, she stood on the tips of her toes. Her lips pressed hesitantly to his. He gasped slowly, lips parting in surprise. Feeling him tense, she reared back. The lights flickered, and so did her resolve.

"Alison, are you sure-?" Kurt asked. She swallowed hard. _Was_ she sure about this? If that night hadn't changed everything, this night certainly would. But she had meant what she had told him. They couldn't go back. They could only adapt and move forward. She wanted to move forward. With him. Alison inhaled slowly, and then licked her lips.

"I _trust_ you," she replied. "Now stop talking." He lowered his head, and she rose to meet his lips again.

They didn't talk for the rest of the night.

0-0

Kurt was exhausted, but he hadn't slept at all. He couldn't risk it—the fact that last night could have just been a dream. It had been so unexpected, really. After a stressful week, getting that text had only increased his stress. He had assumed that text had been the end. He would come over, as instructed, his clothes would be given back to him, and he would be forced to sign some type of restraining order. Why else would he get to see her? But she had surprised him. More than once.

Now, he watched her as she slept beside him. Lying on her front, facing away from him with her arms tucked underneath her pillow, she was unaware of his stare. Her back was partially exposed because the bedspread had been kicked off in her sleep. More than once, his hand had slid up and down the ridges of her back. She had quite a few scars. Old scars. From a time when she had to fight. Or when she had thought she had to fight. A sigh left Kurt's mouth as he continued to watch her. That had been the second surprise of the night. Hearing how she had viciously lashed out. She had basically gone on a rampage. And yet… hadn't been caught?

Surely, the Brotherhood would have caught wind that someone had been targeting them. But Kurt, himself, had never heard of it. That meant… the incidents had never been brought to light. Strange, but not unexplainable. Pride must have stopped anyone from going to the police. A child, though. That should have gotten attention, meaning the Brotherhood would have gotten involved, whether or not the child had been associated in the first place. The payback would have been bloody for the whole of Banshee.

Kurt had been thinking about it as he lied awake. His eyes shifted to the ceiling above him. Things didn't add up. Either Alison had lied—which seemed highly unlikely—or something had been missing. Something behind the scenes that even Alison hadn't known about. Almost nothing would stop parents—even the worst of them—from reporting the incident. So what had stopped them? Kurt had become convinced that something had. Another thing that bothered him had been the reaction of Alison's mother. The woman had acted fast and had immediately gotten her daughter out of town. And telling her daughter that she had gone too far implied that she had known about the… hobby. Those two pieces weren't adding to the whole thing, though. At least, not yet.

Alison suddenly shifted and groaned lightly. Kurt turned his head as her body grew tense. She recognized her own bedroom, so she hadn't jolted awake. After she had fallen asleep, Kurt had carried her here, tucking them both under her comforter. After a moment, or two, Alison turned her head towards him. She blinked sleepily, and then shifted closer to him, sliding her leg in between his and laying her head on his shoulder. Her fingers rested above his navel. A slight huff passed her lips as she settled into a comfortable position. Honestly, Kurt was surprised by the easy way she had snuggled up. He shouldn't be. But a part of him still believed he didn't deserve this. A part of him was still expecting disgust. Most of him, though, eagerly accepted and took comfort in her trust. Kurt wrapped his arm around her.

"You're awake…?" Alison whispered.

"I didn't sleep," he replied. She hummed lightly, not asking for an explanation. "Are you okay?" It took a moment for her to respond, but she slowly nodded her head. For a few moments, they didn't speak. In the silence that followed, he could only hear her steady breathing. "… The power went out for a little while because of the storm," Kurt told her, breaking the silence. "Not long enough for your food to spoil. I could… make you something?"

"No…" she murmured. She breathed in, and then lifted her head, eyes meeting his. The drowsiness had completely vanished. Her hand slid up from his stomach to his chest. "We have to talk." Kurt swallowed. He felt his body tense in apprehension. Still, Alison didn't make a move to leave his side, so maybe his unease was unnecessary. She bit her lower lip and turned her eyes away for a moment. "I'm not going to change what I said, Bunker," she said. Her eyes found his again. "I meant it. I trust you, and I don't regret last night… Do you?"

"No," Kurt answered with a shake of his head.

"Okay… I just meant… We should talk about what this means—what we want," Alison explained.

"It doesn't matter what I want."

"Don't be stupid."

"It doesn't," Kurt insisted. Alison frowned and raised a brow, silently demanding an explanation. "If it's not what you want, then what I want is irrelevant." She pressed her lips together, and then sighed through her nose. Then she sat up, wrapping the comforter around her. Kurt sat up as well. Alison let out a heavy sigh.

"… That's true," she admitted. "But that goes both ways. If I don't know what you want, then we can't decide what this means. So tell me what you want." Kurt swallowed hard. Truthfully, he had gotten more than he had expected. Friendship. Trust. Affection. He hadn't expected any of those when he had worked up the courage to thank her three months ago. And now, she had given herself to him. Because of that trust. What he wanted—and hadn't realized until now—was… _more_. It was greedy and selfish, but it was the truth. He had been content that she had allowed him so close, but now he wanted it all. How could he possibly tell her that? No. "Bunker…" His last name left her mouth like a warning. Immediately, his eyes looked back up. He hadn't realized that he had looked down. "You have to be honest with me about this. Look me in the eye and tell me what you want."

Kurt pursed his lips, clearly hesitant. At her unwavering gaze, he cleared his throat, then breathed slowly. "I want…" he began. Alison tilted her head towards him, simply waiting. "I want… to talk to you." Her brows rose as though she hadn't expected that answer. But he wasn't finished. "I want to see you smile. Hear you laugh. I want to stay up all night with you—listening, watching… learning. I want… I want to cook for you." She remained silent as his insides tightened. After a moment, he continued. "I want to… touch you—no matter how insignificant those touches might be to you. I want them. I want to hug you. I want you to hug me. I want to wake up holding you." Kurt dropped his eyes to his lap. "I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you all over." Kurt licked his lips, remembering how it felt last night. Smooth and ragged. Soft and hard. The fascination with finding her sensitive spots with his lips. "I want your bite. I want you to ride me…" he breathed out.

A startled laugh erupted from her mouth, causing Kurt's eyes to snap up. Alison covered her mouth, but her several giggles leaked through. She couldn't hide the surprised mirth in eyes. He hadn't meant to confess that. But hearing her laugh because of it brought a slight smile to his face. Kurt was glad she hadn't recoiled from him. In fact, she leaned forward, removing her hand from her mouth, and pressing her forehead against his. Once her giggles faded, and her eyes shut, he pressed on. "I want to know you. The good. The bad. Anything in between. I want to protect you. Keep you safe." She smiled again, and then shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I want your… everything." It may have come off as obsessive. Hell, it probably was. But he had never had something like this. Not this. And now that he had it, he didn't want to give it up. "I want to be with you… more than what we were."

Alison chewed her lower lip, eyebrows pinched together. Kurt frowned as he continued to watch her pensive expression. Finally, she opened her eyes and reared back. "That… That sounds good," she said. For a moment, she dropped her gaze. Kurt swallowed, uneasily waiting for the inevitable _but_. "But… I have a friend—a best friend—who's like family. I love her." He didn't understand where she was going with that. It wasn't the _but_ he had been expecting. "She's in a loving, supportive, and completely healthy relationship… with another woman." Still, Kurt didn't understand why she was bringing that up. "If you… If you can't accept that, this—whatever we are—can't happen. _Won't_ happen. What we want won't matter. You understand?"

Inwardly, Kurt jolted at the realization. He understood now. If it came down to it, she would choose her best friend. The threat was clear. Hate the friend for her preferences and they would have problems. No, they wouldn't even have that because there would be nothing between them. Despite knowing Alison for three months, she didn't really know how he felt about homosexual relationships. In the Brotherhood, they were hated just as much as anything not considered normal. They were beat down just as much. If not more. Truthfully, there had been times that he had participated in the violence. Just one of the many things he felt guilty about. He would continue to feel guilty about it, but he would never do it again. He didn't judge. He wouldn't. Especially if it meant he couldn't have... "I understand," Kurt told her. She visibly relaxed. "You don't have worry about that. I'm not that… monster anymore."

"I know that," Alison stated. "I know you." She had said that a lot last night, and just like before, he felt pleasant chills spread across his skin. Kurt didn't think he would ever become tired of hearing her say that. Even the first time she had said something similar had caused a reaction like that. _I know everything about you_ , she had told him the first night they had met. She had judged him because of his exposed ink without hesitance. And now she was saying it because it was true. She did know him. For a long moment, Alison stared back at him. Then her lips parted to speak. "Then… What you want… That sounds like something I want, too."

"Are you sure?" Kurt asked, even as his thoughts lifted to elation. Alison dipped her chin in a nod before her hand reached for him. Her fingers gripped the back of his neck while her thumb pressed against the skin behind his ear. He groaned through clenched teeth as he was pulled forward. His question was answered with a small kiss to the corner of his lips. Then his cheek. Her lips slid towards up. Kurt swallowed, feeling her nose rub against the crown of his ear. His arm locked around her and pulled her on top of him. She responded by wrapping both arms around his neck. Her inner thighs clenched around his sides. He did his best not to slide the cover from in between their bodies.

"I trust you," Alison echoed. Her whisper sent shivers coursing from his ear down to his arms and back. "I want all those things, too. I want you." Her lips met his, and they were kissing again. A long addictive kiss that honestly sealed the deal more than what had happened last night. Crooning moans filled his mouth just as her tongue did. He lazily circled beneath her, his erection pushing against the fabric that separated their bodies. She didn't flinch or recoil from him, but she was still tense. Her not being completing relaxed was expected. He understood it. Despite her trust, memories lingered. Maybe they always would, but for now, this was fine.

Admittedly, before all this, Kurt hadn't thought he craved it. Kissing. Sex. All around closeness. He hadn't missed it when he had run away from the Brotherhood. Maybe had been too drunk to fully comprehend what he had given up. Too numb to even bother wanting it. Years later, no one had wanted him, anyway. But Alison… Christ, Alison Medding…! The lack of intimacy might have something to do with it, but Kurt was certain he was now hooked on it. He wanted the kissing, sex, and closeness so badly that, going forward, he might break without it.

Kurt moved his hand from her side in order to fist the comforter that kept him from her. The slight tugging caused Alison to rear back. She panted against his lips and slowly opened her eyes. Her pupils were dilated to the point he could barely make out the deep brown of her eyes. A smile spread across his face as he watched her. He didn't know when or how, and really he didn't care, but Alison had become beautiful to him. Not just in the physical, but in her entirety. All of her. Even the part that had inflicted pain. Even the part that had been a monster. She was radiant. And she was… No, he couldn't even think it. Not now. Maybe not ever.

"You okay…?" he asked her.

"I'm… still a little sore," Alison admitted. Kurt released his hold on the comforter and lightly kissed her chin, murmuring a soft apology. He kissed lower, lips finding her vein. He felt her shuddering breaths. "You have work today?" He paused, having had forgotten about his work obligations. Hands on his shoulders, Alison curled her fingers. "You should go—to sleep, I mean." Kurt nodded in his in agreement, and then kissed her soundly. "… Jesus Christ…!" she gasped, pulling back. Her breaths came out hard.

"Just… Just one more time? I'll be quick." Alison's jaw tensed at his suggestion. She chewed her lower lip in that tempting way she sometimes couldn't help. Then slowly she tugged at the comforter until it no longer hid her from him. Kurt shut his eyes as she copied his earlier circled movements. A sigh rumbled in his throat and leapt from his lips like a growl.

"No, you don't need to be," Alison told him.

He spent the rest of the morning worshiping her.

0-0

Yay! It didn't take a whole month this time~


	10. I Realize That I'm The One Confused

Rebecca had royally screwed up.

The dead eyes that glanced her way every so often had told her so. As if she weren't already feeling pangs of guilt and frustration. The disappointment was there, too. Clay Burton practically exuded disappointment. It made her want to gag. She almost wished she hadn't gotten so good at reading him. She knew her actions, though for the greater good, had damned her uncle. The _Black Beards_ had taken her uncle because they believed he had gone back on a ridiculous deal. Her uncle could die because of her mistake. Burton knew it that, too. When Rebecca had told him what had happened at the memorial, he had gotten so angry. Angry enough to hit her, in fact. And honestly, she would have accepted it. But he hadn't moved to strike her. He had only assured her that her uncle would be found.

However, half the day had gone by, and there was no sign of him. No calls either. For just a moment, she had wanted to believe they were merely holding him for ransom. How utterly foolish of her. Even more foolish was the fact that she had believed the Sheriff would help. After a short conversation, the man had sent her on her way. Had barely blinked when she had told him the situation. Rebecca knew the two men had never really gotten along—they had tried to kill each other the last time she had seen them in the same room together, after all—but she had thought… he would do _something_ , at least, as a favor to her. But their carnal times together hadn't gained any favor. Sheriff Hood had looked at her as though she had only been a stranger.

It had stung.

In the end, she hadn't mattered to him. A good lay, probably, but not good enough to form an attachment to. Rebecca huffed as she watched the scenery go rushing by. After that massive failure, she and Burton had been looking all through Banshee with no clue in sight. They hadn't known where to look. It wasn't as though the Black Beards had caches anywhere. This wasn't their town. Their search was aimless and turning more and more fruitless as time went on. Her uncle could already be dead. And the tension Burton used to grip the steering wheel told her that he was losing hope, too. If only she hadn't been so foolish…

No. There must be something they could do, besides the mindless searching. Something… Deputy Lotus would have been an answer had he been at the Sheriff's department at the time of her plea. That ridiculous woman, who had also been taken, had been the man's ex-wife. She could have caught his sympathy due to their previous relation. But the deputy had been out patrolling, or on lunch, or doing some other trivial task. The opportunity hadn't presented itself. Still, there had to be another way to get help—some other thing she hadn't thought of yet.

Then it suddenly came to her. _Previous relation_. She sat up straight, eyes widening. She may have been physically sulking for the past half hour… But that didn't matter now. Now, she had something in mind. It was preposterous, but she was desperate. Burton was desperate. It might have been ridiculous, but it could end up working in their favor. She turned to the driver, noting that he hadn't shifted his gaze from the road again. "That woman," Rebecca began. "She can help us."

"No," Burton replied as though he had read her mind. She pursed her lips and turned her body to face his—an uncomfortable thing to do in a seatbelt, but she maintained her glare on his person. "She would be as helpful as the Sheriff."

"It's the only thing we've got left!" Rebecca exclaimed. "Despite his position, the Sheriff is still just a low ranking official in Banshee. If he won't help, we'll go _above_ him. He'll have no choice then."

"How do you propose we convince a woman that has equally tried to take legal action against your uncle?" he asked. Rebecca frowned, unwilling to tell him. Burton's eyes finally shifted his eyes to her. For a moment, he was silent. She scowled in response. "What I told you was hard to find—with good reason, I'm certain."

"All that doesn't matter if my uncle _dies_ , Clay!" Rebecca snapped. The man narrowed his eyes and visibly frowned. "We don't have another option right now. So turn the car around _now_." Burton breathed harshly through his nose, and then finally turned sharp eyes her way. Rebecca stared back, daring him to protest further. Admittedly, she would enjoy telling him what she would do for his insolence. The man still quite disliked her nude state, after all. Just as she was about to threaten him, Burton maneuvered the car in a degree of one eighty. Gasping at the sudden spin, Rebecca could only hold on tight as he sped down the road, back towards town. Once her heart stopped pounding against her ribcage, she turned a glare on Burton. "If you were going to do it anyway…" she trailed off, trying to convey her annoyance.

Rebecca saw the slight tug of his lips, and pouted the entire way there.

The trip didn't last long. Burton was as anxious as she. Or maybe he had decided to give into her petty whims in order to quickly resume looking for her uncle. Regardless, it took mere minutes to reach their destination. Once Burton put the car in park, Rebecca lifted her purse from the floor, and then moved to get out. A hand on her bare arm stopped her movements. She blinked once and focused on the hand that grabbed her. Skin against skin, Burton was touching her. Willingly. Narrowing her eyes, Rebecca shifted her gaze to the apathetic man. He remained unconcerned with her stare.

"Don't ask," he told her. "Don't beg. _Demand_."

Rebecca swallowed hard, unsure as to why her chest constricted. He was… encouraging her. Maybe. Burton had never done that before. It was quite the revelation. One that she couldn't dwell on right now. The young woman pursed her lips, and then aggressively snatched out of his grip. She opened the car door and stepped out. "This won't take long," she said. Burton frowned and withdrew his hand. She shut the door and held back a sigh. Of what, she didn't know. Rebecca lingered a bit longer than necessary at the passenger side door, but eventually she turned on her heel and headed towards the entrance.

With her head held high, Rebecca opened the door and walked in. With a focused stride, she moved towards the receptionist desk. Behind the counter was a man, obviously attempting to look busy on a computer. With dull grey eyes, he watched the monitor, seemingly enraptured with his task. She sized him up from her vantage point. Though he was sitting, she could tell he was of average height, slightly more muscled than the average man, but average all the same. Internally, she scoffed at the physical assessment. Maybe it had been harsh, but she had been around too many non-average males to give this one the benefit of the doubt.

If the peculiar man, covered in horrendous ink, at the Sheriff's office couldn't stop her, this one certainly couldn't deter her. With that thought in mind, Rebecca approached the desk. The man, now that she had a closer look, seemed to be young like her. Maybe older, but she couldn't be sure. She couldn't care less, really. Pointedly clearing her throat, she waited for the man to acknowledge her. The man glanced her way, almost uncaringly, and then tensed. She now had his full attention. "How may I help you?" he questioned, standing from his chair.

His eyes looked her up and down, obviously appreciating the sudden aesthetic view. Internally, Rebecca frowned. Lately, she had been spending so much time around men that wouldn't dare look at her that way because they knew who she was. Her relation kept most men from eyeing her like meat they planned on devouring. A brow lifted as a smirk touched her face. She had forgotten about it. Especially since she had chosen to share a bed with the most disinterested man on the planet.

"I'm here to see the District Attorney," Rebecca stated.

"Is she expecting you?" he questioned with a leer, taking her smirk as an invitation. "If not, I can call her up, let her know she has someone waiting for her. We can… keep each other company for the wait." Rebecca blinked, wondering why she suddenly felt annoyed by the casual flirt. She couldn't explain it, and right now she didn't care to.

"No thanks," she replied, just as casual. "I'll just head right in." It was a small building. No other person seemed to be waiting either. She'd come across the woman on her own. The man sputtered in protest, but made no move to stop her as she walked further into the building. However, she did hear him pick up the receiver to his phone. Hurried words from the man faded the farther away she got. Frown on her face, her eyes darted around in an attempt to spot the office she had had in mind.

Luckily, the doors were labeled. Pretty soon, she came to a door with the woman's title on a gold-plated plaque. Rebecca twisted the knob and pushed the door in. She was greeted by the sight of the District Attorney, sitting down at her desk, focused on paperwork. She barely acknowledged her visitor, choosing instead to keep writing. Rebecca scoffed, gaze averting to the corner of the room. Had she already been informed of her arrival? Well, she supposed that that average man calling for security was unlikely given his apparent infatuation with her appearance.

Gripping the straps to her purse, Rebecca cleared her throat. The woman stilled her hand and blinked slowly. Then she looked up, deep brown eyes sharpened on her person. Rebecca clenched her jaw. Under the woman's piercing gaze, she felt small. She had dealt with many men in her time away from her family. All of them thought they had power. None of them compared to her uncle in the end. However, this dark-skinned woman had a different type of power. No need for underlings. No need for fear. No need for relation. She exuded power all by herself. Somehow, Rebecca could sense it, and it made her question everything she had been doing this whole time.

The woman, Alison Medding, calmly set her pen down, and then clasped her hands together over the paper. "You are so bold for someone so young," she greeted. "Why are you here, Ms. Bowman?" Rebecca pursed her lips, not expecting the older woman to know her name. She hadn't expected to be recognized at all. Still, time was of the essence. She couldn't afford to be daunted.

"I assure you that I wouldn't be here if the Sheriff did his job," she replied. "My uncle has been taken by a crime syndicate known as the Black Beards. They kidnapped him, but when I went to report it, he did nothing. Said he couldn't help me."

"If you want to file a complaint against the Sheriff, there are proper channels you can go through," Alison coolly retorted. "It's not my job to reprimand him."

"I don't want him reprimanded. I want him to find my uncle," Rebecca stated.

"Then _why_ are you here?"

She grit her teeth, a mix of annoyance and distress swirling within her. This woman wasn't asking to get more information. As casual as her tone had been, Rebecca could sense the slight condescending manner in which she spoke. In the end, no matter her responses, the answer would be no. Just because of who her uncle was. This song and dance was familiar. It reminded her of her parents. Silently, she breathed in through her nose and looked down for a moment. Still, for her uncle, she could toss away her own pride if she had to. Rebecca opened her mouth, prepared to do just that. "My uncle isn't the only one. Emily Lotus is gone, too," she explained. "They were both taken right in front of me."

"So you're a concerned citizen then?" Alison questioned. "It doesn't change much, Ms. Bowman. I can't do anything about that. Reporting a crime to me won't help you. If the Sheriff's department won't do anything, what makes you think I will?" The rebuffed feeling came back, and to her chagrin, the stinging around her eyes followed close behind. She dipped her chin, staring at the floor. God—how had she looked to everyone else? Like a child wanting to eat at the big dinner table? Rebecca swallowed rising bile, realizing that, yes, on some level, she was just a girl in the big cruel world. She had gotten by so far by the support of her uncle, and now that he was gone—likely to be killed—she was lost.

 _Don't ask._ Rebecca blinked as words from Burton came to mind. _Don't beg._ She sucked in a silent breath. _Demand._ That's right—she couldn't falter in this. Begging hadn't helped with the Sheriff. It certainly wouldn't help with the District Attorney. Neither would crying uselessly like a child. She was a woman. She may have been more naïve than most, but considering her upbringing, what she knew _now_ was enough. She had come here, seeking help, but that didn't mean she had to ask for it. She wouldn't leave without it. Blinking back tears and hardening her resolve, the young woman lifted her head to stare the District Attorney in the eye.

"Do you really think you're here based on your own merit?" Rebecca asked.

" _Excuse_ me…?"

She blinked slowly and reared her head back a bit. With disbelief painted across her face, Alison raised a brow. In any other circumstance, Rebecca's resolve would have immediately wavered. Clearly, this was not the sort of woman _anyone_ wanted to get angry. Only the foolish or ignorant would ever try. However, this was too important. Her uncle was in danger. Could very well be _dying_. She didn't have time to worry about possibly being strangled.

"I may not have grown up in this society, but I know it well enough to know that you, in the position of District Attorney, is a rarity," Rebecca explained. "You're young and female… and of African descent—a triple threat to older white men. The zealots of them would stop at nothing to bar you from such a high position. So it begs the question… Why are _you_ here?"

"Just what-" She stood from her chair, finger nearly curling around the paper underneath her hands. "-are you implying, Ms. Bowman?" Her dark brown eyes narrowed. The power she exuded seemed to crackle around her. Rebecca pursed her lips in an effort to stifle an apology. She hadn't wanted to imply _that_ , of course, but she could understand how her words could be taken as such. Then unexpectedly, Alison relaxed. She stood up straight and crossed her arms. "What does my position have to do with anything right now?"

"Maybe everything," Rebecca said. The corners of her lips curled into a smirk. "So much power you have, and yet so unaware of why." She showed her teeth as the older woman frowned. "My uncle is the reason you're here."

"That's a laugh," Alison snapped without humor.

"It's the only thing I can think of actually," Rebecca continued, not bothered by the glare being directed her way. "I know a secret about you… and my uncle. You have more in common than you realize, and maybe that's why you've lived comfortably this whole time."

"Get out of my office. _Now_."

"You don't want to know what my uncle has to do with your mother?" Her feigned confusion was a nice touch. Alison's narrowed eyes widened at the mention of her mom. _Hook_. She let out a sharp breath and shook her head just a bit. _Line_. The tension in the older woman's face told her everything she needed to know. _Sinker_. "I found out not too long ago. My uncle started his business with a partner. Her name was Arita Morgan. Isn't that your mother's name?"

"My mother has nothing to do with Kai Proctor," Alison protested, though it seemed to be an effort to convince herself.

Yes. She had planted the seed effectively. "Are you positive?" Rebecca questioned. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're protected, riding on the coat-tails of my uncle's power, based purely on the relationship he had with your mother. He's like… your guardian angel." The frown on the woman's face deepened, yet she said nothing. "Then again, I don't know much about it. I just found a picture of her in my uncle's desk. Now that I'm looking… you look almost the same as her. Whatever their relation, he just couldn't ignore you. Why else do you think you were followed?"

Alison flinched, and Rebecca knew then that the hook had been twisted. Burton had told her of his extracurricular activities days after the incident at the CADI. He, too, had questioned why he had been ordered to follow the District Attorney around. Looks like the task had worked in their favor. The older woman had known about the order, and had been questioning it as well. "I know what you're doing," Alison said. "You think by giving vague information, I'll give in. Cut a deal to learn more. It's been done before and by much more subtle action than yours."

"It doesn't matter if the action is subtle or not—only that it works," Rebecca said. "And it's not a deal that I'm looking for. Because I don't know anything else. Your mother and my uncle—they were partners when it came to _Proctor Meats_. That's all I know. Sure, I can make assumptions like anyone, but the only one alive who _really_ knows the truth is my uncle. He's the only one that truly knows why you've been given special treatment."

"… Get out of my office," Alison repeated.

Her tone had been much more subdued than the last time, though. Rebecca nodded her head, smirk widening. They both knew the result of this confrontation. She didn't very well know the woman, but Rebecca realized that she wouldn't let the truth go. She may have played with her uncertainties, but the fact remained that Alison was the District Attorney for a reason. She wouldn't be able to help herself. "I'll be seeing you around, DA Medding," Rebecca told her, and then turned. Without a backwards glance, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Once she was safely out of in the hallway, she released a silent ragged breath. The whole thing had been nerve-wracking, but she was confident that things had turned in her favor. Swallowing hard, she turned to face the door, staring at the golden plaque. Her uncle would be saved because now he had something someone important wanted. Information was a powerful thing, wasn't it? Rebecca licked her lips and grinned at the sudden realization. Perhaps this wouldn't be the last time she would use information to get what she wanted.

0-0

"Sir, we have a situation." Kurt walked into Hood's office, noting that the man hadn't left his place on the couch. Ever since he had come in, he had been sitting there, stare as blank as the wall he watched. Kurt pressed his lips into a thin line. The Sheriff hadn't acknowledged his presence. After what had happened here, Kurt could understand the detachment. Maybe he had needed more time off… But he was here now. "Sir…?" Kurt tried again. This time, Hood looked up.

"What is it, Bunker?" he asked.

"I just got off the phone with the District Attorney…'s office," Kurt explained. "That girl that was here earlier—she told the DA about her uncle."

"Of course she did," Hood murmured in a huff. "But Alison wouldn't care about Proctor."

"It's not him she's concerned about, I think. Someone else was taken—a… Emily Lotus."

"WHAT?!" The shout came from the next room over. As the glass hadn't been repaired yet, it was just an open window between the Sheriff's office and where the deputies' desks were. Lotus had been at his desk, eating lunch. Kurt had tried to be quiet, but apparently, it hadn't worked. The man abruptly stood and aggressively made his way around to come through the door. The Sheriff sighed heavily. "Emily's been taken? What the fuck are we gonna do?!"

"What? What does your ex-wife have to do with Proctor?" Hood questioned, expression twisted into confusion. Kurt turned to his fellow deputy, wanting to know as well. Alison hadn't known the answer, and she hadn't cared. He, himself, had immediately recognized the name, and had wondered about the relation. Apparently, the woman and his coworker had been married at some point. Lotus balked at the question, and his hostile demeanor had simmered down. Hands on his belt, he began pacing.

"She, _uh_ , took care of his mother," Lotus stated.

"His mother's _dead_ , Brock," Hood stated.

"I know… They, _uh_ …" He visibly swallowed, hesitant on clarifying, but the implication had been enough. Proctor and his former wife had been _involved_. On a level much deeper than employer and employee. The Sheriff groaned loudly, placing his face in his hands, obviously coming to the same conclusion. "Yeah, tell me about it. Alright, look—I'm gonna have Bunker and Raven set up checkpoints. We'll call the state police. Go door to door—the whole nine yards! Bunker, go radio Raven."

"Yes, sir," Kurt nodded, and then turned to do as instructed.

"No," the Sheriff halted his walk. "No—they're probably long gone by now. We're not doing that. We're not doing anything."

"What?!" Lotus raised his voice, becoming worked up again. "Why the hell not?!"

"Brock, I'm not gonna get involved."

"No! Listen to me, Hood!" he continued in a shout. "I have put my ass on the line for you more than once. All right? Now I'm asking you. _Please_."

"Excuse me, sir…" Kurt hesitantly interrupted before the Sheriff could retort. Both of them looked his way, almost like they had forgotten he was in the same room. "Whatever the reasons, we don't have a choice. DA Medding was clear that she wants this situation handled. And if she gets any indication that we're not doing our jobs again, she'll launch an official internal investigation."

"You've got to me fucking kidding me," the Sheriff replied.

"Her words, sir," Kurt supplied, holding himself back from smiling.

"Sounds like her," Lotus scoffed lightly.

"Fine, but give me a few minutes." Hood sighed again. "I need to think of something. I'll let you know what I can do."

"Sir." Kurt nodded his head, and then headed out of the office. He heard the sound of his fellow deputy following after. He sat at his desk, and immediately picked up the phone. Billy had been out patrolling, but he would come back if he knew his job might be on the line.

Alison had been quite serious. Kurt wondered the reason for that. To his knowledge, she had wanted nothing to do with Proctor—not after the man had had her followed. Even if another civilian had been taken as well, would she go to such lengths as to threaten to shut down the entire department? The answer was yes. Alison was a professional. She took her job seriously. It wasn't that surprising now that he thought about it. Maybe she thought she had had to threaten in order for the Sheriff to actually do something.

With a click, Kurt heard the line pick up. After exchanging hellos, he told Billy about what had happened. His fellow deputy agreed to come back to the CADI to await further orders. Kurt hung up the phone, and proceeded to wait for the Sheriff. Within fifteen minutes, Hood approached Lotus and himself with news. He had a contact that had given an area that Proctor could have been held. They—the Sheriff and Lotus—would go and begin the search there. Kurt, and Billy, would have to be on standby in case the two were needed as backup.

So he sat there, waiting and anxious to hear anything about this particular investigation. He was sure the Sheriff could handle it, but… Kurt couldn't help but wonder. His thoughts were eventually interrupted by the sight of Billy coming in. His coworker immediately approached his desk, asking about the situation. "The Sheriff wants us to wait here in case we're needed as backup," Kurt explained. "The area they're searching isn't too far off."

"So I should turn my ringer on then?" Billy asked.

"If it's still the theme song from _COPS_ , then just keep it on vibrate."

His fellow deputy cackled loudly as he went over to his own desk and sat down. Kurt refrained from rolling his eyes. As a joke, Billy had changed his ringtone after he had found out that Kurt had seen _Bad Boys II_. Probably more than he should have. Alison, herself, had remarked that him watching it seemed a bit religious like… Kurt cleared his throat and began shuffling papers around his desk.

"So…" Billy began. Kurt held back a sigh. Christ, he knew this was coming. "You never told me what happened…"

"I don't know what you mean," Kurt replied. He knew exactly what Billy had meant. The man had been beside himself with excitement, barely keeping his fidgets to himself. Obviously, he had wanted to interrogate as soon as Kurt had walked in. However, both the Sheriff and Lotus had come back from their vacation. Their presence had put a damper on Billy's intention to drill with numerous questions. But now they were gone.

"Come _on_ , Bunk!" he urged. "You've been walking on air _all day_! Just tell me what happened last night!"

Kurt pressed his lips together. It was an effort to keep the smile off his face. He still didn't understand how Billy was able to read him so well. He had believed he had come into work the same as always. The _second_ Billy had spotted him, he had nearly choked on a shrill gasp. He had just _known_ something good had happened. Like Kurt had walked in with a shit-eating grin on his face when he hadn't. Keeping what he felt inside was problematic when Billy was around.

"… She… didn't give me a restraining order," Kurt muttered. His fellow deputy merely blinked several times, obviously wanting elaboration. "She didn't _want_ to. She… She actually missed me. Just as much." Just thinking about it made it harder to keep from smiling. Billy looked on, not trying to conceal his eagerness for more. "We talked… and came to an understanding."

" _Yeah_ …?!"

"Why are you so interested in my personal life again?"

"Because we get bored easily. I can happily tell you about _my_ personal life if you want."

"You _do_."

"Then we're even," Billy stated. "Now _spill_." With an exaggerated sigh, Kurt shut his eyes. Reluctantly, he began telling his coworker about last night. Not everything. Obviously. But apparently he had said enough to where Billy could infer just fine. By the time, the recalling of last night—and this morning—had been finished, his grin had stretched so wide that it looked painful. Kurt grimaced at the sight. "Good for you, Bunk," he commended. "I'm glad for you. Now I don't have to watch you wallow in self-pity anymore."

"Shut up," Kurt said without bite.

"Seriously, though, you finally going to tell me who she is?" Billy asked.

"No," he replied immediately.

"Why not? You don't trust me?"

"… It's not about trust," Kurt stated, though he was sure that Billy had only asked as a joke. Or… had they already reached that level in their relationship? Where trust was expected? Shaking the thought from his mind for now, Kurt focused on the present. "I can't risk anyone finding out about her. If the Brotherhood got wind…" Christ, he didn't want to think about it.

"The Brotherhood…" Billy repeated. "They're still around then?"

"Yes," he muttered, feelings of embarrassment flowed through him as memories of his past came to mind. Grieving and drunk off stolen power. He had been a monster. Kurt breathed in sharply through his nose, stomping down the memories. His past was far behind him in terms of time, but every time he thought about it, it all came rushing back as though it happened yesterday. "I was in a bad state of mind back then." Billy hummed, but the intent was lost on Kurt. "I can't let them know about her. She'll be made a target." He swallowed hard. "I won't let that happen."

"So they don't know you're back?"

"I've been keeping a low profile."

"You're _literally_ a Nazi-cop." Kurt glared in his direction. Billy only shrugged indifferently. "Well, you _look_ like one. In a small town like this, they would have heard something. It's weird they haven't approached you yet." Kurt had to agree with that. It was weird, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. As long as they didn't seek him out, he could…

His gaze dropped down to his desk. Could _what_ exactly? He hadn't been thinking about his former associates recently. An image of a smiling Alison popped into his mind. She had been a perfect distraction. He had willingly become distracted by her, sinking deeper and deeper into her that he had forgotten his original objective. He had come back to Banshee, Pennsylvania to right the wrong, destroy the Brotherhood—die trying if he had to. But it had been placed on the backburner in favor of Alison Medding. She had given him something he wanted to hold on to. And she felt so good. In every sense of the word. He didn't want to give that up. Now that he had it.

Messing around with the Brotherhood now could cost him more than he had been willing to give up previously. His life wasn't forfeit anymore. Kurt wanted to be selfish. Not just for Alison, but… Billy, too. Not to mention his job. He had a life again—a good one—and tangling with the Brotherhood again after so long seemed unnecessary now.

"Bunk, I hear you. I do—I won't ask anymore," Billy's voice cut through his musings. Kurt looked up, eyes on his fellow deputy. The man nodded his head. "I understand you want to keep her safe, and that's good." Kurt cleared his throat and returned the nod. "But let me ask you this…" He scratched his head as a shit-eating grin made its way onto his face. Both eyebrow rose as he continued. "You call her _goddess_ last night?"

"Shut up!" Kurt retorted, feeling heat surge to his cheeks.

0-0

The moment she walked in, a sense of dismay fell over her. Her thoughts immediately shifted to regret as she walked through the throngs of drunken men and scantily clad women. Still, she kept her head high as she moved through the gentlemen's club. _Savoy_. It was owned by Kai Proctor—his second business that just might be another front for illegal activities. Of course, it could never be proven. Too many times, he had been able to escape the judicial system. Too many times he had been able to get out of whatever trouble had found him. Or he had found himself.

Alison huffed lightly as her gaze darted around the establishment. She had unintentionally played a part in his rescue. If it could be called that. The Sheriff had called her himself to let her know that Emily Lotus had been retrieved, and that Proctor had gotten out himself. Typical. She was just annoyed that he had come out of it thanks to her own doing. His crazy niece had been manipulative. She had recognized the tactic, and yet it had still worked. Alison couldn't let that insufferable man die without… without knowing what connection he might have had with her mother.

It probably wasn't any of her business, but she had been fretful all day because of it. What could her mother possibly have to do with such a man? He was a criminal, probably had always been that way. There had been rumors of his past, but most—if not all—were more ridiculous each time she had heard the story. The only common denominator had been that Proctor had been a part of the Amish community at some point in his life. However, those ties had been frayed some time ago. In between leaving that community behind and becoming the bane of Banshee—that remained a mystery. Still, it shouldn't have anything to do with her mother.

Regardless, she wouldn't leave until she had her answers. And she knew he was here. She had seen his car and recognized the license plate. Building a case against Proctor, and including even trivial things, didn't seem for nothing at the moment. No one had stopped her. Not the dancers, not the bouncers. Sure, they looked her way, expressions varying between confusion and surprise, but they made no move to impede her walk to the back office. Perhaps they recognized her as the District Attorney, or perhaps they were too stunned to make a move. Whatever the case, she would take full advantage.

Straightening her back, Alison stared at the door. Proctor was behind it, and much likely his bodyguard. Perhaps she should not have come alone, but it was too late to turn back now. Breathing in deeply, she knocked on the door. Loudly and perhaps harder than necessary. She waited until a muffled voice told her to come in. With a purpose, she opened the door and strolled in. Her eyes settled on the occupants of the room. As expected, Proctor stood there, looking unconcerned with her presence. He looked worse for wear—cuts and forming bruises were scattered across his face. He had obviously taken a beating by these so called Black Beards. However, his clothes were spotless, so he must have already been patched up.

Alison shifted her eyes to the second person in the room. Wearing the same black dress, Rebecca Bowman stared back at her. She blinked once, and then a tiny knowing smirk tugged at her lips. Annoying. The girl was definitely annoying, and would probably be a pain in the ass later. Keeping the huff to herself, Alison returned her line of sight the tailor suited man. His assistant didn't appear to be in the room. Good for everyone as far as she was concerned.

"Proctor," she greeted.

"Medding, always a pleasure," he returned. Alison frowned and narrowed her eyes. "To what do I owe this one?" She crossed her arms. "Not a friendly visit then? Unfortunate." Proctor sucked in a breath, and then turned towards his niece. "Rebecca, join Burton outside. I will be along shortly."

"Yes, uncle," Rebecca replied with a nod, but kept her eyes on Alison. She scoffed lightly, and then turned to head out of the side door to Proctor's office. Alison decided to ignore her for now.

She returned her full attention to Proctor the moment the door clicked shut. "To cut to the chase, your niece came to my office today about your… situation," she began. "Normally, I wouldn't be involved with something like this, but she was quite convincing. You see, she knew something—just a tidbit, but it was enough to have me light a fire under the Sheriff's ass. I need to know if it's true. If so, I'm not leaving without an explanation." Enough was enough. Ever since that night where she had almost died, she had been avoiding Proctor. Anything at all to do with him. She had been… afraid of the answers. She hadn't wanted to think about it. But now, the unknown was trickling into her life. Her work. She couldn't allow that to continue.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be more specific," Proctor said.

"Your niece said that we have something in common," Alison nearly blurted. Not as composed as she would have liked, but the man had a habit of getting on her nerves with a quickness. "Is that true?" To his credit, the man didn't react to the question. Admittedly, he had a talent for keeping his expression blank in the face of a prosecutor. "I'm not here as the District Attorney. I'm here as my mother's daughter. Why does your niece think that that something… is Arita Medding?" For a long while, Proctor didn't speak. He merely stared, eyes completely unreadable. Alison stared back at him, forcing herself not to become unnerved the longer the silence went on.

Finally, Proctor sighed. He sat down in the chair that had been directly behind him. "Fate is a strange thing, wouldn't you agree?" He gave a half-smile and dropped his gaze. "I was to live out my life like my father. Closed off from the rest of the world. Only devoted to God and my family. And then fate decreed that I was to die. I was a young man—not even a man. My end would have come by the venom from a rattlesnake. Fortunately, I was saved. Unexpectedly." He paused, most likely thinking back. Alison narrowed her eyes, debating if she should interrupt this stroll down memory lane. "That was a turning point," Proctor continued. "Staring death in the face has a way of… changing one's perspectives. I wasn't the same person after that experience."

"Cut the bullshit, Proctor," Alison cut in. She hadn't come here for his personal origin. "Did you know my mother or _not_?"

His clear blue eyes slowly looked back at her. The half-smile had left his face. "Yes, I knew her," Proctor answered. Alison swallowed hard, hoping the way her breath had caught had gone unnoticed. "Before she became Arita Medding. She was a… beautiful and magnificent woman. Loyal to a fault. Proud and dangerous. The more I knew her, the more taken I was with her. She helped me build _Proctor Meats_ from the ground up."

"You're lying," Alison shook her head. Although it couldn't be proven, that business was a cover up for his criminal activities. Her mother wouldn't… couldn't be a part of something like that.

"What reason do I have to lie to you?" Proctor asked. "Without my knowledge, Rebecca has stumbled across information that has been long since forgotten and has given a piece of that to you. I'm sure you have your questions. And I'm sure you wouldn't have come only to deny what you hear. I assure you, this is the truth." A silent strained breath left her as she held herself tighter. "You look so much like her. It's no wonder I couldn't stop myself from coming to your aid several times."

"Several…?" Alison repeated in disbelief. She scoffed lightly. "No, it was only the once. I hadn't even heard of you until I became the ADA. How could it possibly be several times?"

"I assume you're referring to that horrible night at the Sheriff's department? The night that my mother died while I was stuck in that cage?"

"My condolences," Alison bit out.

"… That wasn't the first time," Proctor continued, seemingly going to ignore the tetchy tone. "No. The first time, you were young and empty. _Sixteen_ , if I remember correctly." For a long moment, her breath left her. She stared at him, stunned and disbelieving. "In that wide, open field, so far away from civilization, where no one could hear you screaming, I watched your mother physically break you… so that you wouldn't be broken again. My idea, of course. Your mother's heart broke seeing the empty shell you had become, and so I told her… The only way she would have her daughter back was to break the shell."

"You're lying," Alison repeated. "You weren't there. You couldn't've…"

"I was," Proctor insisted. "I was the one with the Taser." And just like that, her world completely veered off course. Her body began trembling and her heart felt like it gave out. Paralyzed by the new information, Alison could only stand there, letting her arms fall to her sides. "I do realize that that was a traumatic event for you. Your mother beating you so severely must have skewed your memories to the point of erasing me completely. But… I was there. I watched your mother inflict pain on you—far worse than what happened that night. An effort—one that worked—to bring you back to life. But it wasn't enough. So I found the men that hurt you. I watched her make sure that they wouldn't hurt you, or anyone, ever again." Her lips parted as the implication processed. Jesus Christ… Her mother…? "Fate is a strange thing," Proctor said again. "I truly think none of that would have happened had she not fallen for your father. Had she only agreed to be mine, then _you_ would have been mine. And I would never allow you be put in a position where the opportunity to rape could come about."

"I…" She didn't know what to say. What could she say to that? It had been too much information. It had been dizzying to comprehend, and she honestly felt sick.

Proctor stood up from his chair and stepped towards her. Alison remained frozen, rooted to the spot. "I would have done anything for her— _Arita_ …" He spoke her name as though its very essence was water, and he was a man dying of thirst. Like he hadn't spoken her name in so long. He shut his eyes for a moment, hand reaching to rub the unmarred part of his forehead. "So when she came to me, years later with no contact whatsoever, I did what I could and covered up your bullshit. Your reckless behavior that resulted in a child being hospitalized—a lot of money was spent on that endeavor. Then off to college you went. Who knew that you would return as a prosecutor? Certainly not me. But your mother had died, and I… was left with you. Her daughter. The last of her left in this world. But you had made yourself a target, Alison."

The use of her name jolted her back to reality. Although everything suddenly felt heavy, she forced herself to speak. "What… What do you mean?" Her voice had sounded small. Constricted. Dry and feeble. She, herself, hadn't recognized it.

"All those men you put away, did you not once consider why there was no retaliation?" Proctor asked. "A group like that are a vengeful lot. Full of self-righteousness and hate. The large number put behind bars was because of you. They would not have left someone like you alone. Fortunately, you had my support. Because of your mother, you will always have my support. So go forth and play in the valley of the shadow of death. Do not fear evil. For I am with you." Coming from anyone else, those words would have been consoling. But coming from a man like Proctor, she felt vile just _listening_.

No… No… No. This could not be. Not him. Not Proctor. Her mother had lied in bed with him. Her mother had been a criminal. Her mother… Had she truly known her at all? Alison swallowed, but that proved to be difficult. The man looked on in sympathy, and that did not help at all.

"Fate is a strange thing," Proctor reiterated. "For all our praying and belief, He doesn't care. He watches our fate play out and does nothing. I should have learned long ago that fate is bullshit. We alone have the power to shape our lives. When I left my family, I should have stopped allowing the will of _God_ to dictate me completely." He stepped forward again, and Alison found herself backing away. He accepted her withdrawal with a nod of his head. "I will be gone for a time on business. When I return, I hope to speak further about our relationship. Goodnight, Alison."

Her eyes watched him as he left his office the same way his niece had gone, but her mind hadn't paid attention. It was too busy reeling with the overload of information that had spewed from his mouth. Not only had Proctor implied that her mother had been a criminal, but he also had blatantly stated that he had shaped her life. Almost every action she had made had derived from his idea of breaking her. And her mother had gone along with it.

A sharp exhale of air left her mouth, and her fingers curled into a hard fist. And suddenly she had trouble breathing. Gasps raked her body and she felt cold and numb, dread spreading like poison in her veins. She needed to calm down. She needed to breathe. She needed to get out. _Just get out_.

So she started moving. She turned around and left Proctor's office, forcing herself to take deep breaths. The pain in her chest only increased as tears gathered in her eyes. She stumbled her way out to the main floor, sight blurred, and trembles becoming full blown shakes. The flashing lights and the obnoxious catcalls were ignored in favor of rushing towards the exit. The ambience was just muffled echoes, distorted by her own reality crashing down around her.

Alison had just made it to her car when the first sob had ripped through her body and burst from her mouth. Fumbling, she unlocked the door and quickly settled into the driver's seat. She didn't start the car. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel as the tears finally slid from her eyes. More sobs escaped.

Truth and lies had become warped and hazy, and she couldn't _see_ anymore. Every thought. Every action. Every spoken word. It all meant _nothing_. Her mother. Proctor. All the _fucking deceit_. She had been a fool. Alison opened her mouth and screamed. She screamed even as her lungs burned at the exertion. She continued screaming and crying. Crying and screaming. Because her world had been twisted into something unrecognizable. Because her world had been ripped away from her. Because… her world had never truly been hers in the first place.

So she screamed. And she screamed. And she _screamed_.

0-0

Little to no interaction between Alison and Kurt this chapter, but I assure you that it was necessary. Next chapter will be so much longer and will contain fluff.


	11. Come And Rescue Me

_Hello, this is Alison. I missed your call, so leave a message if it's important._

At the sound of the beep, Kurt cleared his throat. "Hey, Alison… It's me, Kurt." He grimaced at the sound of his own voice. "I was wondering if you could come over tonight. Or tomorrow? You're probably already sleeping now, but… _Um_ … Call me back when you can. It's Kurt." Hastily, he snapped his phone shut and let out a loud groan. That had been awful. He sighed through his nose as his hand reached up to rub his temple. He shoved his cell phone into the pocket of his pants, and then resumed his task of leaving work. His shift had ended about twenty minutes ago. He had spent ten of those minutes pacing back and forth, working up the nerve to call. He hadn't been that nervous since the very first time he had called her.

Honestly, he wasn't used to this. This type of bundle of nerves—he had never been accustomed to it. He had been with women before. Not in this sense, though. The _after_ had always eluded him. In his previous encounters, either they all had left him or he had left them. This foreign, intimate relationship that he now had with Alison was appealing. And he couldn't wait for _more_.

It had suddenly dawned on him that all this was real. The jitters of having a girlfriend—someone for _himself_ —was incredible. As immature as it sounded, the thought had sent his mind and stomach reeling. In a pleasant type of way. As he had packed up for the day, he couldn't stopped himself from grinning. He was a man that had never experienced the blushing and the butterflies and the _Christ, I need to see her again_ that came with having someone special. It was _good_.

Huffing in slight amusement, Kurt lifted his duffle bag onto his shoulder. He shut his locker, and then turned to head out. The Sheriff had come in, only to leave again with the Mayor's daughter. That had been shocking, but Kurt hadn't questioned Hood's order. Billy would be disappointed that his arrest had been taken so lightly, though. His fellow deputy would probably mope about it for hours, out of hearing from the Sheriff, of course. Shaking his head at what would come, Kurt pushed open the door to the CADI.

Despite the moon lighting up the otherwise darkened sky, it was still hot out. He couldn't wait for a cooler season. Kurt never complained, but honestly, he hated the summer months. He hated being sweaty. He hated wearing long sleeves during this time, but… What could he do? The sleeves covered most of his tattoos. The sleeves made things less uncomfortable. The people of Banshee had gotten used to him now. They weren't generally friendly, no. That would always be expected, but having the sleeves made dealing with people easier. Having Billy as his partner also helped. So he could and would endure the heat and the cautious stares. At the end of the day—or shift, rather—none of it mattered. As long as he could go home and escape for a few hours, he was satisfied. More than content now that he and Alison were…

Kurt opened the passenger side door to this truck. He set his bag on the floor, and then shut the door again. Christ, he and Alison were _together_. Him and her. Almost complete opposites. Years ago, he wouldn't have fathomed such a thing. Months ago, he had thought about it—dreamt about it—but never really believed something like this had been for him. Less than twenty four hours ago, it had become reality. An impossible friendship had developed into an impossible romance. After all the shit he had done in his life, he had been given a second chance. He couldn't mess this up.

Going around the back of his truck, Kurt glanced in the direction of the diner across the parking lot. It was a habit he had picked up from his new hire training. The 'Buddy System' had been drilled in his head for the first couple of days on the job, though clearly it had been for the benefit of _Miles_ ' more so than the CADI. Kurt had surveyed the little restaurant after every one of his shifts. It wasn't a twenty-four hour type of business, but usually, this time at night, there were two people working. The chef and one waitress. Or two waitresses. In about an hour, both of them would head home. Tonight would be no different.

But as his eyes scanned the diner, he had to do a double take. Squinting, Kurt focused pass the opened blinds and took a step towards the diner. Inside, it was bright enough to recognize the lone customer, sitting in a booth next to a window. "Alison…?" he murmured as his feet led him to the side entrance of the diner. It was a surprise, considering she had admitted to him that she wouldn't step within a five-mile radius of the CADI again. Still, he felt himself smiling as he opened the door. The bell chimed, signaling his arrival.

The waitress, Daria, barely glanced in his direction. "Sorry, Deputy, kitchen's closed," she told him from behind the register. "Chef's gone for the night, and I'm about to leave, too." The brunette gave a pleasant smile, a stark contrast from the first time she had laid eyes on him. If he recalled correctly, she had sneered in disgust. "My girl will be here a bit longer. Best I can offer is coffee."

" _Uh_ …" He hadn't expected to find himself here this late at night. His eyes made a subtle scan of the diner. Besides Alison, there was no one else. "A coffee would be great—thank you," Kurt replied, politely. The waitress nodded, and then headed towards the back. He waited a moment before turning, attention focused solely on Alison. She hadn't looked his way. Even as he approached her table, she didn't move. Barely blinked. Kurt opened his mouth, prepared to say her name, but thought better of it. "DA Medding," he eventually spoke as formal as he could. Just in case.

Alison blinked once, and then flinched. He almost hadn't noticed it. She looked up from the glass bowl of liquid. At one point, it might have been rainbow ice cream, but it had melted, seemingly undisturbed. She hadn't eaten a sweet treat in front of her. Kurt immediately knew something was not right. Even before she shifted empty eyes towards him. He had never known her expression to be completely blank. Something was _wrong_. Christ, had he already fucked this up somehow? A soft sigh left her as she blinked again, recognition showing in her gaze.

"Deputy Bunker," Alison replied just as formal. Although he realized that they were in public, and certain airs had to be placed, a part of him was disappointed by her reserved tone. She turned her attention back to the puddle of ice cream. "Is that why I…" she trailed off, not finishing her soft-spoken sentence. Now that he heard it, though, her voice sounded different. Strained and raspy like she had been overexerting it.

Before he could begin asking questions, he heard footsteps approaching, snapping him back to reality. A reality that he couldn't even show concern for someone he cared about because they weren't in the privacy of their homes. Breathing in through his nose, Kurt quickly stepped away, moving pass the booth that Alison sat in. He couldn't help himself from sitting in the adjacent booth. With only the backs of their seats separating them, he realized that this would probably be the closest that they could ever get in public. The sudden revelation was hard to swallow.

Seemingly not noticing, the waitress stood at the side of the table, placing a mug of steaming coffee in front of him. She gave her customer service smile, that didn't quite reach her eyes, and began speaking. "After you're done, just leave the money on the table. My coworker will be out to get it, so you can leave right after," she stated. Kurt had to give her credit for the discreet 'hurry up and leave.' "You have a good evening, Deputy."

"You, too, ma'am," Kurt returned, fingers moving to grip the handle of the ceramic mug. She left his table and turned her attention on Alison.

"I'm leaving now, Ms. Medding, but my girl is still in the back," she told her. "You can move tables if you want." Kurt frowned, understanding exactly what the waitress had said. _Shout if you need help_ and _no one will judge you if you move away from the big scary Nazi_. He lowered his gaze to his coffee. Despite the months he had spent back home, doing his job as a police officer, normal people just didn't trust him. Never completely. "Take care—I hope you feel better."

"Thank you," Alison said. "Good night."

Kurt furrowed his brow, hearing the waitress take her leave. He waited until the door shut before speaking up. "Feel better…?" he repeated like a question. Turning his head to the right, he saw her reflection in the glass window. Alison reached up and massaged her neck. Then she clasped her hands together in front of her on the table.

"Don't worry about it," she told him, softly. "Just… I just used my voice more than expected today. It was an unusual type of day. I thought ice cream would make it better…" He had noticed that she still wore her business attire. A dark grey suit, tailored-made, with a teal shirt underneath the jacket. Still wore her heels, too. That told him that she hadn't gone home after working. Had she been here all night?

"You want to come over tonight?" he asked. "I could make you some soup. That'll definitely help your voice."

"… No, not tonight."

The response was both surprising and alarming. Alison had never turned down food before. Kurt narrowed his eyes as he brought the rim of his mug to his lips. The dark bitter liquid mildly burned his mouth, but he drank until the glass became half-full. With a deep breath through his nose, he set the mug back down on the table. "Are you… Are you okay?" he questioned in a whisper.

Her answer came equipped with a sigh. "Don't worry about it," she repeated. Kurt pressed his lips into a thin line. Her words had been familiar, but he hadn't heard them in quite some time. He had gotten used to her telling him pretty much everything. He had assumed that after last night, pretty much would turn into just everything. But he understood her unwillingness to talk. They weren't exactly in the right setting to. In the back of the store, there lurked another person who could easily listen in on their conversation. He probably should have thought of that before offering soup. Or maybe he should stop assuming things just because.

Still, at this moment, she obviously wasn't in the mood to talk. He would respect her wishes to be alone. No matter how disappointed he had become by her aloof response to his presence. Swallowing, Kurt slid across his seat, preparing to leave. He would leave enough money behind for his coffee and her bowl of… cream. It would be the least he could do for her for now, at least.

"Kurt," her voice stopped him from standing. "Have you ever… thought about how your life could be different if certain things hadn't happened?" The question had thrown him a little. Alison wasn't a 'what if' type of person. She wasn't one to look back. Her eyes were always focused on the now and the future. So to have her suddenly thinking about the past—thinking of altering it—seemed odd.

Of course, he, himself, had had those type of thoughts. For years, he had been the epitome of regret. Since coming back home, the regrets no longer overwhelmed him. Still there, yes, but manageable now. But there had been times where he had drowned himself in alcohol and _if onlys_. If only he hadn't been approached by Tank. If only he hadn't tried to go home by himself that night after the rally. If only he had never met the Millers. If only he had known what that little shit Hondo had planned. If only he had been able to stop it. If only he had saved Naomi and her grandfather. If only the people he had come to love hadn't rejected him for that fire.

If only…

If only…

If only…

Kurt lowered his gaze to the table. He wanted to answer her, but the more urgent want had to do with the why. Of all people, why had she asked that type of question? Clearly, it hadn't been to know more about him. Something had happened on this _unusual type_ of day. Something that might have shook her belief in some way. Why else would she bother to scrutinize and wish for a different past? "Why are you asking? Did something happen?" he questioned. For a long moment, Alison did not answer. Kurt turned his head to the right. Since he had moved, he was now able to see the right side of her face. Her jaw was rigid with tension.

"I've been-" She bit her lower lip and shut her eyes. "-I've been thinking recently. They say we have free will—that we have the power to choose our own fate—but that's wrong, isn't it? When it comes down to it, having free will is something we tell ourselves. It's comforting to think you have some semblance of control. But that's all it is— _semblance_."

"Alison-"

"Our lives aren't our own—not really," she continued. "Every action we take, every word we say—those things are shaped by someone else. Someone who thinks they know what's best. Our decisions are taught to us well before we have to make them. All this time, I thought I knew the cause. I thought I was satisfied with the effect. But I don't know anything, and that makes me question whether or not I'm where I'm supposed to be. If I had known, would I still be who I am? Would I still _want_ to be who I am?"

Kurt knew what she was doing. She had come to the point in her life that she was questioning her very existence. Christ. No matter how much time he spent with this woman, he still occasionally forgot how _alike_ they truly were. _He_ had been lost with thoughts like that constantly on his mind with no outlet. The difference was that he had been alone. Hadn't had anyone to vent to. Those thoughts would have killed him had it not been for the random act of kindness from the Sheriff in Dade County. As Alison's kindred, he couldn't let her wallow in self-pity. He wouldn't.

"Alison…" Kurt tried. She merely dipped her chin. "Alison, look at me, _please_."

Slowly, and reluctantly, she turned her head to face him. Her eyes welled with unshed tears, and it came as a shock. He had seen it before when he had accidently triggered her awful memory. When she had screamed for him to stay away. That scared, vulnerable look had forever been seared into his brain. He hadn't wanted to see it _again_. This time, though, he had a chance to change that look. Kurt swallowed as he glanced outside. Beyond the blinds, the parking lot was empty. It was too late for casual strolls, too. Satisfied, he leaned closer to her, returning his focus back to her sad eyes.

"I don't know what happened today, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Kurt began. "But who you are isn't tied down by your past or who taught you. Your life, and the choices you make, are _yours_." Alison inhaled sharply and averted her gaze. "Hey-" He had wanted to reach for her, but he refrained. Still, his voice had been enough to catch her attention. Her dark brown eyes shifted to him again. "You're right—we _are_ shaped by what we're taught. But that doesn't mean we have to stick to those teachings. _I_ didn't, and now, who I am doesn't have to try so hard to convince myself that I'm a better person. Now, I _know_ I'm better than I was. I know I made the choice to break free from those teachings. I _chose_ this despite all the shit my upbringing taught me."

"It's not…" Alison visibly swallowed. She blinked, releasing one tear. The motion of it sliding down her cheek yanked at his chest. "It's not that simple, Bunker… I—my entire life has been based on a misconception. Who I'm supposed to be depended on that."

"I don't think that's true," Kurt replied. She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Whatever this misconception is, it didn't make you become who you are today. Who you're supposed to be doesn't depend on any _one_ thing—misconception or not. You're the District Attorney of _Banshee_. Despite the odds, you became the youngest and best prosecutor this town or any town has to offer. You're the person who saved _my_ life, despite how you had every reason to let me die. You're not the sum of a misconception or teachings from someone else. You're a hero, and a role model. You're dangerous and magnificent. You're _Alison Medding_ , radiant and amazing… with an unhealthy obsession with the _Marvel_ franchise."

She looked away, smile on her lips and chuckle on her breath. She seemed surprised, but a laugh had been what Kurt had hoped for. Christ, she was beautiful. "This coming from a Will Smith fanatic?" Alison sarcastically asked as she wiped underneath her eyes with her knuckles.

"We all have our quirks," Kurt retorted.

She chuckled again, turning her eyes to him. Her smile lingered even as she opened her mouth. "That we do," she murmured. A thoughtful expression crossed her face. With her brow furrowed, she looked a bit confused. She bit her lower lip again. Then her lips parted again, forming an 'o' shape. Those expressions passed in a second, and Kurt couldn't understand her thoughts at all. Then her expression relaxed, smile remaining. "Thank you, Kurt," Alison whispered. He almost couldn't believe that hearing his name made him so happy. "I think…" She cleared her throat and turned away. "Thank you."

"It's all true, anyway," he told her. Alison sighed, barely audible. "Are you going to be okay?" She didn't answer right away. Her chin tilted downward, and for a moment, she seemingly stared down at the table in front of her. Finally, she sucked in a long breath and released it slowly. Again, her eyes shifted in his direction.

"I will be," she admitted. Kurt nodded, accepting that answer. Her world had been shaken. No one could just bounce back right away—not even her. It would take time, but hopefully she would be willing to vent to him, get it out in order to clear her mind. Alison cleared her throat and pressed her lips together. "Anyway, I guess I should head home now…"

"Right," Kurt agreed. He turned and slid out of the booth. Standing, he reached in his pocket for his wallet. "I'll take care of your bill, too."

"Thanks," she replied. "… Hey?" He faced her after dropping a ten dollar bill on the table. That should cover her ice cream and his coffee, right? "I… I think I could go for some soup after all."

"Yeah?" Kurt asked, eagerness sneaking into his stomach and causing flutters in his chest. "Are you sure?"

"Just give me an hour at most," Alison answered.

"Alright," he responded. He felt himself smiling, already thinking of what type of soup he could make… and how he would be able to hold her in bed again. Not sex. Not tonight. Just cuddling. He couldn't wait. "Alright—I'll see you in another hour." Kurt walked away—because honestly, he had an intense urge to lean forward and kiss her forehead, and there were cameras, so _no_ —and his mind began imagining all the ways they could sleep together. Would she lie a little on top of him? Would she let him wrap his arms around her tightly? Would he be able to give her light kisses to her shoulders? His smile stretched wide as he pushed the door open. He couldn't _wait_.

Only… She hadn't shown up.

0-0

Alison watched Kurt as he made his way to his truck. She could barely contain the smile. His dorky-ass grin hadn't changed at all. She scoffed lightly as he pulled out of the parking lot. To think she had felt so numb after leaving _Savoy_. She hadn't even realized she had come here until a waitress had asked for her order. That had been hours ago. And only after Kurt had come in had warmth spread in her body. She felt better because of him. Had he been the reason her body had gravitated to this place—on the off chance he would see her and bring his comforting presence? Also, he made her realize how utterly exhausted she was. She couldn't wait to fill her belly with warm soup, and then curl up on his bed to sleep. She was ready for this day to be over.

Alison pushed away the bowl of untouched ice cream. With a heavy sigh, she began to gather her things. Her teal wallet and her cell phone had been placed on the seat next to her. She blinked once, seeing that Kurt had called her and left a voicemail? Oh well. She would listen to it later. For now, she would go home, take a shower, and then head out again. If it came up later, she would ask about the call then. She slipped her phone inside of her jacket pocket and slid her wallet between her side and arm, and then stood up from the booth. Just as she was heading towards the door, Carrie Hopewell came from the back area of the diner.

The two women stared at one another, both surprised by the other's presence. Alison hadn't known that _she_ had been the last person here. Hell, she hadn't known her friend's wife had still been employed at the diner at all. "Oh, I thought everyone had left," Carrie muttered, coming out of the stupor first.

"Was about to," Alison told her. She gestured to the previously occupied booths. "Last guy offered to pay for my… ice cream. You can keep the change."

"Got it." Carrie moved over to the tables and began picking up dishes left behind. Well, just Kurt's mug and her bowl, really. "Have a good evening."

"You, too," Alison replied, turning towards the door. She had been about to open it when a thought struck her. Slowly, her gaze turned to the waitress. For more than a decade, she had fooled her family, and the town about her past—who she had been. She was a liar. A damn good one. Before, Alison hadn't cared much for the shocking reveal of an assumed identity. But now… Clenching her jaw, brown eyes watched the former daughter of a gangster wipe down tables. "Hey, I have a question," Alison began.

Carrie halted the vigorous wipe down. With her eyebrows scrunched close, she appeared taken aback by the continued conversation. No surprise really. Despite them having Gordon in common, the two of them had never been cordial. Not even polite small talk had been exchanged, so to have Alison suddenly attempt to initiate discussion probably perplexed the waitress. "You have a question…?" Carrie asked slowly as she lifted her torso and faced her.

"A curiosity, really," Alison retorted. "I know we have never been on speaking terms, but… I've recently acquire some information that has me wondering about who you were—about _Anastasia_." The other woman went completely stiff at the mention of her former name. She practically threw the rag on top of the table and leveled her with a hard glare.

"I don't think that's any of your business," Carrie said through clenched teeth. Alison stared back, knowing she had crossed a line, but… she couldn't back down. She wasn't known to do that in court, and she certainly wouldn't do it outside of court either. Breathing in deeply through her nose, she clasped her hands in front of her.

"It's not," she agreed. "But right now, you're the only one that could possibly give me a little insight."

"Insight to _what_?"

Tone aggressive, Carrie crossed her arms. Her body language was taut with incredulity and barely concealed indignation. "Insight as to how you so seamlessly transitioned from a gangster's daughter—a dangerous criminal—to a self-effacing housewife. Married with two children. No one would have suspected a thing. Until your father found you." Carrie showed her teeth in a snarl. Probably shouldn't have mentioned her kids. But she wouldn't falter even under her acidic stare. "You know when Gordon first told me about all that, I honestly couldn't understand his reaction. What gave him the right to be so devastated about the truth—a truth that did not concern him at all? No one would reveal such a colorful background if they could help it, especially if they're running from it."

As she had continued speaking, Carrie's tense form had gradually softened. Perhaps she had believed that Alison had sympathized with her. It hadn't been sympathy. It had been a legit failure to comprehend why covering up her past had been so wrong. _It changes everything_ , Gordon had told her. _Bullshit_ , she had replied. That had pretty much ended the conversation because he had no longer wanted to discuss it with her, unless it involved the case.

"But…" Alison squeezed her hands tighter, nails digging into her skin. "Now, after going through the same thing, I see that it wasn't about you hiding your past. It was… him thinking he knew everything about his world, only to realize his world was never his to begin with. He was devastated because the woman he loves and trusts was someone completely different. He not only questioned your life and motivations, but he questioned himself, too. You turned his world upside down and confused the life you shared to the point of breakdown. I get it now—how is he supposed to continue living in his world when his world was only an illusion?"

Carrie scoffed, a sarcastic chuckle bouncing off her lips. "Look—I don't know who hurt you, and frankly I don't give a damn at this point," she said. "But don't come crying to me—a _stranger_ —about how fucked up you think your life got just because of some hidden truth." Alison sucked in a sharp breath, but Carrie didn't give her time to become offended. "You want _insight_ —fine. I was a bad girl. I was a notorious jewel thief. Not because I liked it. Not because I was good at it. But because I was _conditioned_ for it. With a father like mine—you kinda don't have a _choice_."

"I understand that, but-"

"You don't understand _shit_ ," she calmly interrupted. Alison snapped her mouth shut. "My life before Gordon was hell. I pretended for most of it because of who my father was—how _insane_ he was. But I broke free from him. When I finally reached the point where I was forced to flee, I realized that I was _pregnant_ ," Carrie continued, somberly. "You want to talk about worlds? Try carrying around one for nine months first. You want to talk to me about devastation? Try loving someone, _unconditionally_ , for over fifteen years, and then have something about your ugly past come to light. Try staying up all night because you realized that the same unconditional love wasn't returned. Just because _the bad girl_ didn't fit into the box your loved ones put you in. That… is devastation, Alison. _That_ is the moment you find out your world never belonged to you. Not some obtuse reason of knowing and _not_ knowing some goddamn truth that should have stayed buried."

Alison lowered her gaze to the floor. She felt… like a child being scolded. Not to mention, the whips of guilt lashing at her chest. She hadn't stopped to think about the other side. Hadn't stopped to consider unconditional. The love she had for her mother—could it be changed just because of a contradicting trait? Just because being a criminal hadn't fit the image she had had of her mother? The guilt swelled and her chest began hurting. She felt incredible shallow and so very selfish.

"I'm sorry," she found herself mumbling. Not only to Carrie, but the apology went out to her mother, too. How frustrating it must be to watch your daughter's love for you change. "I… I wasn't trying to accuse or attack you. I just wanted… to understand. I think I have."

Carrie sighed heavily, drawing Alison's attention again. "… I'm sorry, too," she muttered. The other woman rubbed at her forehead, appearing tired. "I didn't mean to get so defensive. I'm just-" She sighed again, lowering her hand from her forehead. "I've been thinking about divorce papers all day."

"… Oh," Alison replied, awkwardly. "They came then?"

"Yeah," Carrie said, just as awkward.

Alison shifted uneasily. She had been so focused on her own issues that she neglected to think about anyone other than herself. Jesus Christ, what could Gordon be feeling at this moment? He hadn't mentioned divorce papers to her. Well, she hadn't exactly been her approachable self for the past week, had she? "Last I heard, you two were going to work things out."

"They came this morning," Carrie supplied, furrowing her brow. "Honestly, I forgot about them. I think we both did."

"… Not that it's any of my business, but I don't think you have anything to worry about," Alison responded. "He has said that you're the love of his life more times than I can remember, and that was during his not so good phase. He still loves you." Carrie gave a strained chuckle and averted her gaze elsewhere. Alison cleared her throat. She wasn't used to comforting strangers… Speaking of which- "Why is it that we never became friends?" she asked. On one hand, the question had been meant to change the subject. But on another hand, she had wanted to end the conversation on a lighter note before departing.

"I…" Carrie appeared startled by the question. Then she chuckled, more relaxed than before. "You want my honest answer? I thought you had a crush on my husband."

"Sure, if I were into incest," Alison said, frowning.

"Oh, so he's like your brother…?"

"More like a sister." Carrie's laugh burst from her mouth, surprising the both of them, it appeared. Watching her, Alison joined in. An image of Kurt laughing like a dork entered her mind. Suddenly, she had a more active desire to see him. "Well, I should head out," she stated once their giggling subsided. Carrie nodded her head. "I'll see you around." The other woman told her to have a good night as Alison turned towards the door.

Before she reached for the handle, the bell jingled for the other door. "Sorry, kitchen's clo-" Carrie's words caught in her throat, and a sharp gasp escaped instead. Blinking, Alison shifted her attention towards the other door, wondering what had caused that reaction. A man stepped in. Dressed in full military garb—a dark green camouflage uniform—his crystal blue eyes sharpened on Carrie. She stood frozen, body rock hard with tension. "Y-You…" she whispered, obviously recognizing him, and obviously not wanting to see him. The name on his jacket read 'Stowe.'

"Sorry. Got a little impatient." The dark-haired man gave a half-smile, but his enthusiasm was fake. "You should go, civilian." Without looking away from Carrie, he had directed his words to Alison. Her eyes merely narrowed at his form. Despite feeling her skin crawl in warning, she remained where she was. Upon noticing that she had remained rooted to the spot, his eyes focused on her. _Flight or fight_. _Flight or fight_. _Flight or fight_. Her instincts were loud now. Who was this man to invoke such a response with just a stare?

"If you didn't actually catch that, my friend said that kitchen is closed," Alison stated.

"Alison, no…!" Carrie urged. "It's okay. You can leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," she retorted, stepping to Carrie's side. In hindsight, it had probably been the worst thing she could have said. A flash of green caught her eye, causing her to glance down. Neon green dotted her upper body. A glance in Carrie's direction showed her the same thing. Shit. The lasers weren't red, but clearly they were from snipers. This wasn't just some sleaze with a penchant for harassing women. He hadn't been alone. This was an _operation_. Carrie threw up her hands in a sign of surrender. Alison grit her teeth and slowly copied her movements. "Jesus Christ, what the fuck did you do now?" she grumbled. And why the hell had she chosen to get involved?

0-0

That _goddamn_ Sheriff.

With an aggravated huff, Gordon Hopewell grip the straps of his large duffel bag before tossing it in the passenger side of his vehicle. Probably should be more careful, considering the contents, but his annoyance had turned to panic—and his panic to anger—the longer he stayed out searching. He had been up all last night, hoping to hear something. When morning had come, with no sign from his wife, he had begun to aggressively search the town. Still nothing, and that had been two hours ago.

No matter how far his search extended, he couldn't find Carrie. He had looked at all her favorite places, the places she frequented, and her hotel room. Nothing. Sighing, Gordon climbed in the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. He had to accept that Carrie missing and those military issued bullets at the bar were connected. He breathed sharply through his nose, just knowing Lucas Hood must have been the reason for it. The Sheriff hadn't been too forthcoming with the details, but he had stated that he would find 'them.' Gordon scoff and shook his head. 'Them,' meaning more than just Carrie had been manipulated into doing something against the _military_.

Knowing this, Gordon came to the conclusion that he would not be going into work today. Hell, he might not ever go back to work, depending on how the rest of the day went. So the only thing he could do now was to wait to hear back from the Sheriff. While he waited, he decided to 'get his house in order.' He had already said goodbye to his children. Deva had noticed his awkward behavior this morning, but she had remained silent. Obviously, she had still been angry with him for leaving her behind bars. Max had energetically returned the hug, and had him contemplating going down to the basement to get his equipment.

In the end, he had still gotten his sniper rifle. God forbid if something happened to him, but he would make damn sure that his two children still had at least one parent. He had become resolute in his decision, so that was the reason he was off to see Alison Medding. His protégé would see through him—would know something was amiss and demand answers. However, he had internally practiced how the conversation would go. She might take offense, but he couldn't let her get a word in edgewise. He would say what he needed to say—a suggestion to strive for his position—and then abruptly leave. Better that than wasting time arguing with her. It would most definitely be an argument, so best to avoid that altogether.

All too soon, Gordon pulled up outside the attorney's office. He got out of his car and made his way to the front entrance. Walking briskly, his approach was met by the receptionist. The younger man stood up from his chair immediately. "Mayor Hopewell," he greeted with a customer service smile.

"Hey, Devin—just here to see Alison," Gordon stated, veering to the right.

"But she's not in today!" he said, cutting off Gordon's trip to Alison's office. He turned slowly, expression twisting into confusion. "I tried to reach her several times, per protocol, but the only thing I got was her voicemail. It didn't even ring."

"You… you didn't find that odd?" Gordon asked. Alison never shut off her phone. A person might get her voicemail, but she either sent a text back or called within, at least, fifteen minutes. Unless, of course, that person happened to be the Assistant District Attorney. She mostly ignored him. With good reason, honestly. "And she hasn't gotten back in touch?"

"Well, sir, yesterday was her first day back after a week of missing work," Devin stated. "I just assumed she took more vacation after I called for the fourth time. This is the most time she's ever taken off since she got to this office. I say: good for her."

If it had been any other person, Gordon would agree. However, since it was Alison in question, he couldn't help but think how weird this situation was. Since he had known her, she had always put work first. She had to be forced to take vacation and sick time. Not to mention, she would normally become disgruntled at the thought of not finishing things for the day. Mostly because she would refuse to take work home with her.

Last week had been an anomaly, but she had, at least, called to let him know she wouldn't be in. She was too professional not to. After he had shown up at her house, and had seen the state she had been in, he had told her to take a few more days. The point was: he knew about those days because Alison would never just _not_ show up.

Gordon cleared his throat. "Thank you, Devin," he said. "If anyone calls looking for her, direct them to the ADA… even if they don't want to speak to him."

"Yes, sir."

Clenching his jaw, Gordon turned and headed back the way he had come from. Maybe he was overthinking. Maybe Alison just hadn't wanted to talk with anyone. The last time he had seen her, she had been numb, barely acknowledging his presence, barely even speaking. He had been surprised when she had called to inform him that she would return to work. He had wanted to ask, but she had used her professional voice—no room for personal things.

Gordon breathed deeply through his nose as he sat in his car. Still, the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. Alison would have called. She wouldn't have shut her phone off. And more importantly, she wouldn't have willingly taken another day off when she had just missed several days in a row. Twice, he tapped the steering wheel with his right index finger. Then he twisted in his seat, hand moving towards the armrest between the two seats. He lifted the latch and pulled out his cell phone.

Sorting through his recent calls, he quickly found Alison's number. He tapped the skin and his phone began connecting. Just like Devin had mentioned, the call went straight to voicemail. Gordon hummed, and then placed his phone back into the compartment. It seemed all calls were being forward, not just from work. Her phone was definitely off. "What could've happened?" he muttered to himself. He sighed again.

Alison had been behaving differently ever since… the anniversary of her tragedy. Of course, changes would occur when that time of year came around. However, it normally took her a day to bounce back—not an entire week. No, something had been particularly different about _this_ year. Yes, he had revealed that he had known the secret, but her reaction to him knowing—even while drunk—had been mild in comparison to seeing her again after that night.

Then a thought abruptly struck him. Hurriedly, he reached for his GPS and began tapping the screen. Seconds later, the history appeared. Gordon knew one thing that had been different from last year. This 'more a friend' hadn't been mentioned in the previous year. Not Lena. Not her partner, Jenna either. Alison had a select few as friends. Quality over quantity. In her drunken state, she had mentioned the 'more a friend,' and had demanded to be taken to their address. She had never mentioned another friend before, so this person probably hadn't been in her life last year.

Gordon pulled his fingers away from the screen. The address was about twenty minutes away. Out of the way. However, it was a bit closer to her actual residence. Still out of the way, though. Frowning, the Mayor stuck his keys into the ignition and started his vehicle. Maybe it wasn't his business, but he decided to go. Truthfully, he hadn't needed to talk to Alison in regards to getting his house in order. However, his curious mind demanded that he investigate the strange happenings that had popped up over the last few weeks. With that thought in mind, Gordon pulled out of the parking lot and sped down the road.

Arriving as quickly as possible, Gordon pulled right in front of the building. The apartment building looked differently in the light of the sun, but he was positive the green door had been the one Alison had pushed her way in on the night she had gotten drunk. Wasting no time, he got out of his car and headed for the door. As he moved, he surveyed the rest of the area. Like before, elsewhere seemed deserted.

He came to a stop in front of the door. Gordon knocked several times, and then waited. Either Alison would be here or he could potentially find out where she was. He heard the click of a lock sliding out of place before the door swung open. The person that stood before him caused Gordon to stare in mute horror. Not only was this person was _male_ , but with the white t-shirt and jeans, the tattoos spread across his arms and hands were clearly visible. Two things that caused Gordon to gape like a fish. Like the many men Alison had put away, this man had ink that blatantly showed off ignorance and hatred. Not only on his arms and hands, but on his face, his _neck_ —the shirt probably hid more. This man was a neo-Nazi. _Scum_ stood before him.

"I must…" Gordon awkwardly began. He shifted uncomfortably, and then turned away. "I must have the wrong door."

"Mayor Hopewell…!" he spoke up. Surprisingly polite, the man's voice caused Gordon to face him again. Then he realized that he actually recognized him. The man was the newest deputy of BSD—had been for a few months, actually. Gordon could remember feeling perplexed by his presence, but with all that had happened because of Chayton, he hadn't the time to comment aloud. The new hire had been pushed to the make of his mind, having been filed under _another_ ridiculous, and probably hasty, decision the Sheriff had made.

"Deputy… Bunker, is it?" Gordon attempted to compose himself.

"Yes, sir," he answered with a slight nod. He sucked in a breath and visibly swallowed. "Is there… Is there something wrong, sir?"

"No," Gordon muttered. He cleared his throat. "No, like I said, I have the wrong door. I… _uh_ … dropped my friend off here last week. Thought maybe she was around, but maybe she's a couple doors down. Sorry for disturbing you."

"Wait!" Bunker raised his voice, halting Gordon's efforts to walk away. "Is… I…" He seemed hesitant. His hands clenched into fists. "Are you referring to the District Attorney?" Gordon narrowed his eyes, almost immediately suspicious. Granted, Bunker could have easily seen Alison come and go as she visited her friend, but a guy like him taking note of someone like her—it didn't sit well. There was no telling what sort of vile thoughts had entered Bunker's head as he watched his friend visit her 'more a friend?'

"As a matter of fact, I am," Gordon answered. He felt himself frown. "You wouldn't happened to have _seen_ her recently, have you?"

"… Yes, sir," he stated, apparently ignoring the bite in Gordon's words. "After I left work. The District Attorney didn't seem… to be in a good mood."

"And what do you care what type of mood she's in?"

Bunker lowered his gaze to the ground. It seemed to take him a moment to gather up words. When he found them, his eyes sharpened on Gordon. The Mayor was surprised by the jolt he felt from the stare. "She's the District Attorney of Banshee. I am a Deputy of Banshee. We're on the same side… sir." Those words came out of his mouth, but there was something else—something deeper—something he wouldn't say. "Since last night, I've had a gut feeling that I should've… that something was wrong. And now that you're here, questioning her whereabouts, that feeling has gotten worse. As a cop, I can't ignore it."

"She's _black_ , you realize? Don't pretend that it doesn't bother you." Gordon had to stop himself from sneering. "Don't pretend you're worried about a black woman in a seat of power. Don't pretend to care about her _whereabouts_."

"… I understand that my physical appearance may be unsettling, but I can assure you that my ties to the movement were severed long ago. Unfortunately, the removal of my tattoos has taken longer than anticipated." Bunker didn't look away once as he spoke. Eyes were clear and sincere, but his voice—his words—had been automatic. Scripted. How often had needed to use that disclaimer? "With all due respect, sir, the color of her skin is irrelevant. She is a person that might be _missing_. I _will not_ ignore that."

Gordon didn't want to admit it, but he felt… chastised. Just a bit. Enough to where there was slight guilt for judging Bunker by the way he looked. Was it irony rearing its ugly head? "Alright, so…" Gordon sighed. "Where exactly did you see her last night?"

"At _Miles' Diner_ , sir," Bunker replied. "After my shift was over, I went in for a coffee. I saw her then."

Gordon felt his insides clench. Of course, Carrie's workplace had been the first place he checked. Her vehicle had still been parked at the side of the building. He had assumed that whatever happened had taken place at the restaurant. Daria, her coworker, had told him this morning that Carrie had been tasked to lockup for the night. The place had been locked, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Except for the cold cup of coffee left at one of the tables, and a bowl of melted ice cream. The waitress had made an offhanded comment about how Carrie would normally make sure to wipe down everything.

"And… you left before her? Before Alison?" Gordon questioned.

"Yes, sir."

"Damn it…"

If his earlier assumptions were to be believed, a rogue branch of the military had taken Carrie, supposedly from the diner. If Alison had been there with her… It seemed to be a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Somehow, Alison had gotten caught up in whatever vendetta had been put into place. "Sir…?" Bunker's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Gordon roughly rubbed his jaw as his mind drifted back to the bullets. "Sir, if there's anything you know… Tell me."

"The Sheriff and I believe that my wife, Carrie, along with a few others, have been taken for some reason or another," Gordon vaguely explained. "These men are dangerous, former commandos, who, apparently, aren't above kidnapping." As he spoke, he noticed how rigid Bunker became. He was drawing his own conclusions before Gordon could explicitly state it. "Alison could have been taken at the same time as Carrie."

"You say the Sheriff knows?" Bunker asked, voice taken on a slight growl. "What's he doing to get them back?"

"I don't know, but it won't be good if he's thinking of going by himself," Gordon said. "I'm going to get my wife and friend back."

"I'm coming, too."

"Listen, Deputy, this isn't something members of the Sheriff's department can handle. Laws will be broken. People will die. I shouldn't be telling you _any_ of this. No one has sanctioned this rescue mission. Reinforcements will not come. Whatever happens can't be written in a report."

"With all due respect, sir… I'm off-duty."

0-0

In the end, I decided to split this chapter up.


	12. Only You Can Set Me Free

_I can't keep doing this… She's my daughter._

 _You can, and you will, or your daughter will die._

 _Kai…_

 _Beat her until she breaks, Arita. Only then will she learn to survive._

Alison slowly opened her eyes. Blurry from the forced state of unconsciousness, she had to blink several times, but that did nothing to help her sight. Her body felt stiff and awkward, drained of viable energy. Groaning softly, she realized that she had been propped up in a chain with her wrist bound behind her back. The plastic material bit into her skin. If her senses weren't dulled, the grip might have been painful. Breathing in slowly, she shook off hidden and _unwanted_ memories. She needed to gather her thoughts and figure out her location. Or, at the very least, become acquainted with her surroundings.

She had been blindfolded by use of a dark clothed bag. Despite her impaired vision, she noticed the light coming through. No wind on her bare shoulders, though, nor heat. It would seem that her blazer had been removed. Of course it had. Her cell phone had been in there. Who knows where her wallet could be? The last thing she could consciously remember had been a sharp prick at her neck. Some type of knockout drug then. She had been taken for stepping in something that hadn't been her business. Alison had made a mistake, and it seemed as though it would cost her. She should have just left instead of trying to get insight.

"Well, look who's decided to join us finally," a voice caught her attention, causing her to jerk in surprise. "My apologies. It seems you have a low tolerance for sedatives." The apology sounded as fake as his voice. Alison swallowed with difficulty. Her throat was dry. She attempted to speak, but only a hoarse whisper escaped. And suddenly, the bag had been pulled from her head. Alison winced under the sting of the artificial light. She blinked rapidly, shuddering fast. It felt like she was about to vomit. " _Hm_ … Maybe too much sedative."

Her vision finally cleared, allowing her to focus on the two men that stood opposite of her. One, she recognized. Stowe. He appeared as smug as he had at the diner. Beside him, with the clothed bag in his hand, was a tall, dark, muscular man. He, too, appeared militant in nature. Camo pants with a tight black shirt, along with dog tags around his neck, completed the look. Alison sat bound and weak with two dangerous men in the room. In her line of work, facing dangerous men was a norm. This situation was obviously different. "Wh-Where…?" she managed to croak out.

"That's not information that you need to be privy to," Stowe replied. "Instead, let's talk about you, District Attorney Alison Medding." Within her mouth, her teeth grinded hard against each other. He knew her identity, and yet he had still chosen to keep her. This man had still chosen to restrain her. It meant one thing. He was going to kill her. Question was: Why hadn't he already? "What could someone like you get out of defending a known thief?" Alison remained quiet, understanding the 'known thief' was Carrie Hopewell. Jesus Christ. Not because she liked it, her ass. "You see, the girl you so passionately decided to defend… stole from me, along with the local bartender, a hacker, and some unknown person."

"If… If you wanted… to report a crime… you could have gone to the authorities," Alison retorted slowly. Stowe merely gave her a smirk for her attempt at sass. She swallowed again, less difficult than before, but still challenging. "If you know… my position… then why am I… he-here?"

"You were so quick to come to her aid, which made me think maybe you're her friend," Stowe explained. Alison would have scoffed if she could. "And if you're her friend, you might know her other friends, who she associates with, who she spends time with. All you need to do is give me names so that I can pick up this fourth person, and I'll let you go." A lie. She had seen his face. Saw his name. And he was making it fairly obvious that he hadn't intended on just talking to these four people. Too many action movies. Same bad guy mentality. She almost wished she had been ignorant of such a thing.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Alison spoke. Her voice wasn't up to par, but she hadn't spoken as slowly as before. "What Carrie Hopewell gets up to in her free time is her business. I don't know her, or her friends. Whatever information you need, you can get from her."

"I already tried. She was… determined to keep the name of her fourth away from me," Stowe mentioned. "No matter how hard I tried to pry it out of her mouth." The way he spoke was oddly sinister, and Alison found herself shuddering internally. "So maybe you might have the information, whether you know it or not. So rattle off some names of who you think might be in cahoots with Anastasia Rabitov."

"I already said I _don't know_ ," she said.

Stowe frowned, a crack in his calm façade. He took a step towards her, and Alison tried hard not to flinch. "You know _something_ ," he insisted. "See, I read up on you—your work. You're very thorough in what you do, hardworking, and most importantly competent. When you set your sights on a criminal, most of the time, you manage to put them away. You see little facts that most would gloss over, and those little facts help you to win most of your cases. Very commendable." And now he was trying to butter her up with compliments. It was a predictable tactic… that wouldn't help him. "You researched Carrie. You must have found something that could point me in the direction of the fourth idiot that robbed me. Her past, her present—you can link them together and find the one."

Honestly, it was true. She had already begun to try and link names and faces in her mind. However, nothing really stood out. The lives of Carrie and Anastasia were completely separate. Almost, but any links to her past had already died or were unknown to her. Still, even if she had known, she wouldn't tell this man. "I'm sorry you don't like my answer," Alison told him. "But it's not going to change. I don't know Carrie enough to give you _anything_."

"I want my fucking money," Stowe almost snarled.

"That sounds like a personal problem."

The man quickly decreased the distance between them. His large hand grabbed her by the hair and yanked hard. Hissing, Alison glared up at him. "You don't seem to realize the situation that you're in, Medding," he growled. "I want my fucking money, and you might be the only one that can help me get it right now. So I want you to think _real hard_. Otherwise, I'm going to start to think you had something to do with this group of idiots." Threatening tactics. He had sure escalated in an unpredictable way. Something was wrong with this man. Alison pursed her lips, refusing to speak anymore. Stowe's eye twitched three times before he roughly released his hold on her hair. "Put her with the others," he ordered, standing straight. "Maybe see familiar faces will jog her memory."

The other man walked towards her and roughly grabbed her out of the chair. It happened so fast that her mind spun at the sudden movement. She felt her legs buckle, not quite ready for it. She would have fallen had it not been for the strong hand that gripped her bicep. Not saying anything, the man practically dragged her towards a door. Her heels clicked against the floor as she was forcibly moved. Alison had no choice but to try to keep up with his long strides.

After pulling her through the camp—the sunlight had hurt her eyes; she could barely make out anything—the man finally came across another door. He opened it, and then pulled her inside. Alison managed to spot three people inside, one being Carrie. Another, she recognized, but couldn't quite remember where she had seen him. He was an older black man. Bartender…? Sweets…? The last one was a bald Asian man. She had never seen him before. Before she could further examine the room, she was shoved hard. Not expecting it, she fell to the floor, barely able to save her face from the fall. At the last second, she twisted her body, causing her shoulder to take the brunt of the impact. It hurt like hell, but it would be better than having a broken, bleeding nose.

"Hey, asshole! Was that really necessary?!"

"Shut up," the militant man retorted. He squatted, taking out a white strap. He made quick work of binding her legs together by her ankles. Alison felt like kicking him in the face, but refrained. Once done, he stood up to his full height, staring down at her. "Think real hard," he repeated Stowe's earlier words, and then walked off.

The slam of the door closing behind him caused her to flinch, but at least she could breathe properly again. Or hyperventilate, which ever one came first. She couldn't believe she had wound up in another dangerous situation. First Chayton, and now this Stowe character. Both men had dangerous weapons and men at their disposal. Both men had no problem ignoring the law in favor of displaying their power. Both men cared little for life. And without weapons to defend this time around, she might actually die.

"Alison, are you alright?" Carrie asked, voice filled with concern. Alison had to stop herself from scoffing. She slowly sat up, facing the other three prisoner.

"Shouldn't you be asking yourself that?" she snapped. The woman looked horrible. Face red, just ready to start bruising. Dried blood was caked under her nose. Her white shirt had been splotched with red. Carrie frowned, lowering her head a bit at being called out. Her injuries had clearly come from being beaten to a torturous extent. Alison shuddered violently, wondering if Stowe had delivered the beating himself. "But, no, Carrie, I'm _not_ alright," she snapped. "I could be at home. Curled in bed. _Eating soup_!" That last bit made her flinch. Kurt. She hadn't been able to make it to his place. Was he thinking she had decided to just stay home, or had he been pacing in worry because of no contact? "But _no_! I'm here— _kidnapped_ —surrounded by thieves and people who won't bat an eye at the thought of killing!"

"Hey! I _told_ you to leave!" Carrie rejoined, narrowing her eyes.

"And in hindsight, it was a _dumbass_ decision and I wish I could've walked out that door," Alison vehemently agreed with a sharp nod. "But if wishes were poppy, then we'd all be dreaming." She wiggled her legs, testing the binds on her ankles. The plastic strap had been applied dangerously tight. If she hadn't been wearing pants, her blood flow might have been cut off—further proof that these military men didn't give a damn about taking her life. Jesus Christ. Alison sighed heavily, attempting to relax despite her body's trembles. "Now, since we're obviously going to die, I think I deserve to know why the fuck we're here in the first place, Carrie." In response, the woman, once again, lowered her head, clearly ashamed.

"I'll tell you why we're here," the Asian man spoke up, drawing Alison's attention before she could demand answers. Pursing his lips, his pointed stare was aimed at Carrie. "We got sloppy. We got sloppy on a job we shouldn't have done in the first place."

"He doesn't know everything, and that's what keeping us alive until help arrives," Carrie said.

"Help…? What—this fourth person he keeps going on about?" Alison questioned. She scoffed and shook her head. "So there _is_ honor among thieves?" Her sarcasm was met by glares, but she couldn't bring herself to care. What the hell was one person going to do against a small army? "So who is this person that won't skip out of town and has you _so_ confident that they'll come?"

"I don't think you want to know… District Attorney," the older black man commented. Alison sucked her teeth in annoyance. "But… he'll come."

"But who's gonna help him, _hm_?" the Asian man asked, rhetorically. "That man has exactly three friends, and they all right here."

"Have some faith, Job," the older man said.

"Have you _met_ me?" Job retorted.

"He's gonna come," Carrie asserted.

"Oh, I know he'll come," Job agreed. "He'll take on the whole motherfucking platoon. Might even make it past the front gate. But there's still a shitload of mercs with a shitload of guns between him and us. So excuse me if I'm having realistic expectations."

"He'll find a way," Carrie muttered.

"Fuck you, he'll find a way!" Job shouted. "He ain't your fairy godmother come to make all your dreams come true. How many more times does he have to put his ass on the line for you until he gets his motherfucking head blown off?" Alison's eyebrow jerked. The two, Carrie and Job, continued to bicker, voices growing louder the longer they went on, but she was stuck on that offhanded question. On the line, he had said. There weren't many people who would do that. In fact, only one came to mind. Alison shifted her attention to Carrie, and then the older man. Jesus Christ. The revelation came like a deafening boom.

Despite the situation, Alison began laughing. Hysterically. She was vaguely aware that the shouting match had ceased, but she was too in her head, scolding herself for not seeing it sooner. The one person who had opportunity, knew both Carrie and the bartender, and was capable of such blinding faith. She didn't know what this Job had to do with it, but she had enough circumstantial evidence to suspect this man as the fourth. The longer she thought about it, the more concrete it became.

"I think she's lost it," the bartender murmured.

Alison breathed in sharply, abruptly cutting off her humorless laughter. "Isn't this perfect?" She shook her head. Her glare focused on Carrie. "Your baby's daddy coming to the rescue." Expectedly, Carrie froze, but Alison let out a huff. "I can't believe this. I should have realized sooner. I should have known something was off the moment Gordon told me about Deva's real father." She licked her lips and chuckled again. "He's the only one link to your past that's still around. He's the only one that knew about the money beside the occupants of this camp because he visited on a case that involved this base of operations. He's the only one that lives above your bar, Sweets."

"It's Sugar," the man mumbled. "And he actually lives next door."

"He's the only one that has put his ass on the line for you more than once that I know of," Alison finished, turning her attention back to Carrie. Then her gaze settled on the remaining man. "I have no idea who you are, but you must be the hacker Stowe mentioned." Job remained tight-lipped. "With a crew like this, how could the Sheriff not seize an opportunity to rob fucking commandos? But I'm guessing you all did the job _right after_ his girlfriend died. Made him sloppy, which made everything else sloppy, which is the reason we're here. You must be _real_ proud of yourselves."

"… Damn, I guess you're not the DA for no reason," Sugar commented. His compliment made her frown. "All that from one little outburst." He glared at Job, in which the Asian man glared right back. "Now if we can all just _calm down_ …" Alison inhaled through her nose. "Yes… We're on opposite sides of the law, but we're in this together. If we're gonna to make it out of this, we're gonna have to stick together. _Hm_?"

They were thieves, the lot of them, but… Sugar was right in this case. Whatever chance of her surviving... came from allies. She needed them in this situation. Clenching her jaw, Alison scooted her body towards the vault. It took a lot out of her, but she managed to sit back against the steel safe. She needed time to recuperate, but it wouldn't mean anything if the fourth was caught beforehand. If he was captured or killed—that would be it. All of them would die. "Doesn't matter if we work together or not. Won't mean a damn thing if there's no outside distraction, so I pray that your blind faith in the man isn't misplaced."

"He'll come," Carrie repeated, somberly. "He always does." Alison decided to keep the huff to herself. She breathed in deeply and shut her eyes. Nothing better to do yet other than to recover her strength and wait for whatever outcome to present itself. No, she didn't want to die, but she wasn't going to hold out for a one man army. Her expectations were alarmingly low about getting out of this situation.

After what seemed like hours, the door to their prison opened. In stepped a man, armed with a gun. She didn't know enough about weaponry, but maybe it was a rifle. Whatever it was, it looked as though its bullets could shred a person to bits. The man pointedly aimed it at all three, staying silent as he did. Alison supposed it was a warning. No funny business, or else type of warning. Sugar hadn't bothered to wake himself for the threat. He had dozed off some time ago, lying on his side with his cheek pressed against the floor. Either he was fearless, or his old body could no longer withstand the fatigue of current events. Alison was willing to bet it was a bit of both. Why else would a man in his fifties even consider stealing from commandos?

Anyway, after waving his gun around after a few moments, the door opened again, causing the man to lower his weapon. The same black man from before came in, followed by the Sheriff and Stowe. The man's blue eyes widened considerably at the sight of her. He glanced in the direction of his comrades, but came back to her. Mouth opened and eyebrows raised, he stared, clearly in shock. Alison stared back, frowning.

Stowe didn't seem to care. The man walked by him, gesturing to the rest. "As you can see, your friends are alive… For the moment." He then proceeded to kick Carrie's face. Her head sprung back because of the vicious strike. Alison grimaced at the sight. Carrie groaned, and her head dropped forward. Blood dripped down, staining her already bloodied shirt. Uncaring, Stowe walked away from the woman he had kicked and approached Sugar. With a rough nudge from his foot, he turned the man over to lay on his back. The older man startled awake, only to groan as Stowe pressed down on his chest. "Go get my fucking money," he demanded, unperturbed by the groans of pain.

The Sheriff stared back at Stowe, hands visibly clenching. Again, he looked her way. "I get it. I will," he assured the crazed man. "But let me take her out of here-" He gestured to her with a tilt of his head. "-she has nothing to do with this. Absolutely _nothing_. She's not involved."

"No," Stowe dispassionately replied.

"She's the _District Attorney_ for fuck's sake," Lucas pointed out.

"And _you're_ the Sheriff," he retorted. The man lifted his foot from Sugar's chest and looked at Alison. She tried not to flinch under his hawkish gaze. "Didn't stop you from taking what's mine. Besides, she is the one that involved herself. Isn't that right, Medding?" Stowe walked over to her, and Alison breathed out sharply through her nose at his proximity. Again, he grabbed her hair. He practically lifted her from the floor with his grip. His cold blue eyes bore into her, invoking violent spasms to course through her. "Did you know your Sheriff was so corrupt?"

"Yeah…" Alison turned her eyes to Lucas. He pressed his lips together as he watched her. "I thought real hard and figured it out." Finally, the Sheriff lowered his gaze to the floor. Maybe she shouldn't have said it out loud. Who knows what he would do in retaliation for her knowledge? Who knew what else he had been hiding?

"And are _you_ just as guilty?" Stowe asked.

" _Fuck_ you," she hissed out, shifting an offended glare on the man who would dare.

Her words only seemed to amuse him. Stowe released his strong grip on her hair, and stood up straight. His eyes, once again, focused on Lucas. "Since she seems important to you, I think I'll keep her," he said. "Go get my money _now_." The harsh demand was met with the Sheriff turning abruptly, leaving them all behind. He had showed up despite her misgivings, but his entrance hadn't been enough of a distraction. Also, it appeared as though he intended to negotiate—trade the money for them all. Lucas was sorely mistaken if he thought they were going to make it out alive based on that negotiation. Still, she had learned that the Sheriff wasn't exactly a good man. Perhaps he had some type of plan. Perhaps he would bring in allies. His deputies… And, of course, thinking about his deputies made Alison think of one in particular.

" _Kurt…"_ she thought, dipping her chin. Squeezing her eyes shut, she thought about her twenty-four hour boyfriend. Alison almost let out a wry chuckle. Finally managed to form such an attachment, and she couldn't even enjoy it long-term. Fate was a strange thing. She scowled, attempting to banish the words of Kai Proctor from her mind. Fuck that man. Fuck _this_ man, too. She glared up at Stowe. The urge to see him bleed burned raw within her. She had to make it out of this if only to put them away. Or watch them die. Whichever came first.

0-0

This might have been the worst feeling he had had in years. Kurt couldn't stop his knee from bobbing up and down. The minutes seemed to stretch as he rode around in the Mayor's SUV. They had made a few pit stops before ultimately heading towards the last place the Sheriff could be. Their first stop had been the Mayor's house. He had an extra bullet proof vest, which Kurt had immediately put on above his long sleeved black shirt. He had only briefly marveled at the fact that he would actually need it. They intended to go against trained military men. They knew they would come under fire. But that didn't matter as long as the hostages could be taken back.

The CADI had been the next stop. Kurt had to sneak into the back to head for the armory. He was pretty certain he wouldn't want to explain to his fellow deputies—if they hadn't been out patrolling—why he needed so many guns and bullets. He especially hadn't wanted to be under the hawkish gaze of Alma as he signed out the weapons. That woman was every bit intimidating as the first night he had met her. So as stealthily as he could, Kurt had raided the armory and had smuggled the weapons out of the CADI and into the back of the Mayor's SUV.

Now, they were headed to the local watering hole. The Mayor had insisted that the bar would be the only place that the Sheriff could be. Kurt had agreed. After all, he, himself, had found the Sheriff there several times. Sure, they could have gone straight to where the hostages were being held—honestly, Kurt wanted to go storming the gates as soon as possible—but the Sheriff knew the layout. It would be best to have some sort of plan beforehand. Besides, the Sheriff had proven himself to be good in an overwhelming crisis. If it meant getting Alison back safely, then he could wait before rushing into the fray.

Finally, the vehicle came to a stop, causing Kurt's eyes to focus on the outside. They had arrived at the bar. "I'm going to check to see if he's in there," the Mayor stated, turning the vehicle off and taking his keys from the ignition. He warily stared at Kurt from the corner of his eye before proceeding to get out. He had been doing it the entire car ride, choosing not to comment. Obviously, the man was uncomfortable about his presence, but he had still offered to drive. Kurt supposed that their shared apprehension about those taken had overridden anything else. He nodded his head, watching as the Mayor headed inside the bar.

Keeping his eyes on the entrance, he waited for the reappearance of the Mayor. It seemed like a long time had passed before the man came back out. He gave a quick nod, moving towards the back of his vehicle. Kurt opened the door and followed. They both grabbed their respective bags, and then headed inside. The Sheriff sat at one of the tables, clearly preparing for war. Guns and ammo laid spread out on the squared table. He was in the middle of loading a gun. His eyes did a double take, realizing the current company. The Mayor paid no mind and headed over to another table, opposite of the Sheriff, and began preparing himself.

"Bunker," the Sheriff greeted, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Sheriff," Kurt replied. He shifted the weight of the bag before stepping forward. He went over to the bar, setting down the bag. "I heard about what happened," he explained as he began unloading the equipment. "Civilians were taken. The District Attorney was one of them." He turned towards his boss, hoping his determination showed. "I intend to take them back. No matter what." The Sheriff didn't look the least bit surprised at the mention of Alison. He had known then? It wasn't just speculation anymore. After hours of fretting over no contact with her, Kurt had finally gotten his confirmation. She had never showed up for soup because she hadn't been able to.

"If you've heard… then you understand that this isn't-"

"I understand perfectly, sir," Kurt interrupted. "And with all due respect, you can't stop me from going." The Sheriff opened his mouth, seemingly about to protest, but then he closed it. Sighing to himself, he nodded, and then went back to preparing. Honestly, Kurt was relieved there hadn't been much objection to his presence. He needed to get to Alison. He needed to know she would be safe. He wouldn't feel comfortable, knowing the danger, and not being able to do anything.

So for the next ten minutes, the three men worked in silence. Then the Mayor cleared his throat. Kurt paused his work and turned his head towards the older man. His eyes were focused on the Sheriff, who had yet to halt his preparation. "So you have a plan, right?" the Mayor questioned, meticulously putting his sniper rifle together. "A better plan now that you actually have allies with you, I hope." The Sheriff finally paused, placing a final bullet in its clip.

"Yup," he answered, plainly, and then slipped the clip into his Glock, one of the several he had strapped to his person. Kurt, too, had chosen mostly handguns for this excursion. However, his main weapon would be a semi-auto rifle. It felt comfortable in his hands, and he would use it until the bullets ran out. "I know the layout. Me and Bunker will move on foot. You, Mr. Sniper, will get somewhere high, cover our backs."

"How do we get in, sir?" Kurt asked. "Infiltration?"

"No, we'll go right through the front gate," the Sheriff replied. "On the multiple occasions I visited, there were two guards. Easy to take out. It's the tower opposite of them that'd be the problem."

"The tower could be their communications and a good vantage point for snipers. It has to be taken out of the equation before we go in," the Mayor stated. "I can take care of that."

"How many do you think we'll be up against, sir?"

"The camp, itself, is shut down, so it'd be a skeleton crew," Hood responded. "Twenty, thirty, maybe. It'd take them a few minutes to form up with no communications, so we have to take out as many as we possibly can in the first few minutes. Shoot to kill. No mercy, Bunker."

"Yes, sir."

"You nervous, again, Bunker?" the Sheriff almost chuckled.

"Yes, sir," Kurt admitted.

Not for the reason his boss might have thought. Sure, the odds were against them. They were about to go head to head with trained military personnel. Most, if not all, would call it a suicide run. The Sheriff was capable. He had seen the man in action. Kurt glanced at the Mayor. He seemed to know his way around his weapon, so perhaps he had been well-versed in sniping. Kurt's own training had very much been a crash course—minute training that had gotten him by in Dade County. Caused his survival when Chayton attacked on the CADI. And made him confident in his abilities to take down a suspect. However, the stakes were higher this time. If even one thing went wrong with this, all of them could die. Including Alison. That, alone, stretched out his nerves and chilled him to the bone. He could not let that happen.

So as Hood went over the plan, Kurt listened carefully, committing every detail to memory. The Sheriff gave descriptions of the layout, possible cover spots, and their ultimate goal. The location of where the four were being held. His knowledge of the area had been surprising, but Kurt hadn't been about to interject and question the extent. If the plan worked, and it had seemed good, considering their odds, then he wouldn't bring himself to care how the Sheriff came across the knowledge.

Wrapping up the plan, the Sheriff slipped on his bulletproof vest, signaling that he was about ready to go. The Mayor had already put on his vest, as well as a leg holster. He was already standing, sniper rifle attached to his back, grenade launcher in hand. After a few moments, the three men headed towards the door. Kurt clenched his jaw as he moved towards the light blue Ford pickup truck that had been parked right outside the bar. It would be the mode of transportation. Shame it wouldn't be their way back out.

He climbed into the trunk, along with the Mayor. The two of them would hide under the tarp about a half a mile away from the camp. For now, Kurt pressed his back against the wall of the trunk with the Mayor sitting opposite of him. Hood wasted no time starting up his vehicle, and soon they were on the move.

Kurt shut his eyes, squeezing the neck of his main gun. Only now, as everything finally settled in, did his heart begin beating horribly fast. Alison had been taken. She could die. One of the best people in his life—arguably _the_ best—could be snatched away in an instance. He swallowed, but it was painful. There was a real chance that he could lose her. Before, he had foolishly thought he could live his life without her. He had resigned himself to accepting a restraining order. He had thought he could manage that. The potential of her no longer existing, though—vanishing from his world forever—no, he wouldn't be able to handle that. He… could spiral into oblivion if it came to that. The ramifications of the thought had his heart stuttering within his chest.

 _Tranquility is a state of mind…_

Her previous words stroked his mind, and Kurt forced himself to breathe again. He relaxed a little, inhaling slowly through his nose. When he had first began learning control, she had told him that. She had told him that he had been quick to anger. Had been quick to provoke. He had come a long way from that conversation. He had reached tranquility, or, at the very least, was on his way to approaching it. He couldn't allow himself to get worked up. Being emotional about this might compromise the plan, and the possibility of her dying—everyone on their side dying—increase considerably. So he had to calm down. Breathe. And stick to the plan.

Kurt exhaled through his mouth, loosening his fingers' grip on his gun. He opened his eyes, and almost instantly realized he was being stared at. The Mayor, wobbling side to side because of the movement of the truck, kept his eyes trained on him. With a thoughtful frown on his face, he stared unblinking. Maybe he had chosen to stop and think about things as Kurt had. Maybe he was now wondering, with a clear mind, just what his temporary ally had to do with anything about this situation. The Sheriff's friends were in danger. The Mayor's wife was in danger. This rescue was personal for them. To him, it might appear that Kurt was willing to risk it all for the sake of doing what's right. Not many people would, so his suspicion was logical. Only a matter of time before the man became vocal about his suspicions.

"So you're really doing this because you're a cop?" the Mayor questioned. And there it was. Kurt felt himself tense again, even though he knew it was coming. "Sorry, but that seems as unlikely as-"

"A neo-Nazi becoming a cop?" he cut in, frowning. The Mayor mirrored the frown.

"You can't honestly expect anyone to believe you're doing this because of your profession—one you shouldn't have in the first place," he remarked. "You're not getting paid for this. There's a high chance that this mission could result in our deaths. And you don't exactly look the part of a Good Samaritan. Hell, even good Samaritans wouldn't willingly come on this trip. So why are you here, Bunker."

Kurt reminded himself to breathe again. He took his time in finding words—an explanation that would stop the questions. He glanced to the side for a moment, wondering if he should just tell the truth. With the way things were looking, it would be known soon enough, anyway. Besides, the Mayor was a friend of Alison's. Eventually, he'd figure it out. Taking in a slow breath, Kurt returned his gaze to the Mayor. "The District Attorney," he began. "She's the main reason I'm going." Expectedly, the man's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "We've… We've been friends for a little more than three months now."

"You're lying," the Mayor protested. "Someone like Alison would _never_ associate with someone like _you_ …!" A sharp brittle pang jabbed at his chest. Someone like him…? Yeah, he supposed someone like him didn't deserve to be in Alison's orbit. "With what's she been through, there's no way she could ever see you as a friend."

"You're right," Kurt replied, solemnly. "Under normal circumstances, someone like her would keep away from someone like me. But I was persistent. She saved my life, and I wanted to thank her. She agreed, and a little while after that, we became friends."

"Bullshit."

"Mayor Hopewell, you can believe what you want," Kurt told him, stifling irritation. He understood where the man was coming from. The relationship between himself and Alison had always been impossible, but it had happened regardless. "But it won't change anything now. I won't let someone like her die." The declaration seemed to startle him into silence, but Kurt meant every word. "I… I care about Alison. I can't just sit around and hope she comes back safely. I'm going to do something about it to ensure it. That is why I'm here. That is why your belief doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is saving her."

The Mayor's frown deepened. He opened his mouth to say something, but a banging on the window signaled that they were close to the camp. It was time to go into hiding. Holding onto the side of the truck, Kurt maneuvered himself underneath the brown tarp, alongside the Mayor. Cradling their weapons close to them, they waited with quiet breaths for the next signal. Within a few minutes, the truck came to a complete stop. Swallowing, Kurt felt the truck begin to move again. They were only seconds away now.

Kurt slowly moved his finger over the trigger. Then he heard the gun shot. Immediately, he rose from his position, aiming his weapon at the post. The guard behind the glass barely stood up before he fired. The bullets went through the glass, hitting the target. Behind him, he heard the grenade launcher go off, followed by a loud explosion. He only glanced at the destruction of the tower before hopping out of the back of the truck. Kurt quickly slapped the button to open the gate.

Waiting for the gate to open, he took a deep breath. It had begun, and he wouldn't stop until he got to Alison. Steeling himself, he moved forward, following behind the truck as it went pass the gate. Alongside the Mayor, they both jogged behind the vehicle. It acted as a large shield for the hail of bullets that came at them. As expected, the enemy was scattered, completely taken by surprise. They were easy to pick off even under fire. Kurt grit his teeth as the truck finally reached a point where the Sheriff turned the vehicle sideways. This was the cue to move away. Hood jumped out of the driver's side, hastily following them behind the cover of a building.

Once the three of them were in the clear, the Sheriff set off the grenades that had been hidden. There were about ten of them, so the resulting explosion shook the entirety of the camp. The rumbles caused him to falter in his stance even though he had known the blast had been coming. The explosion had taken out a few more enemies, but its main purpose had been to alert the four. Hood had complete confidence that his friends would realize that the tactic was for them, and that they would take steps to begin fighting their way out. Kurt had agreed, and had known Alison would think the same. He just had to hope the diversion reached her ears from the vault room she was being held in.

0-0

The District Attorney sharply lifted her head. She had _felt_ that. Who would have thought? The Sheriff actually came through, and apparently had decided to use all his resources for the excursion. She supposed she had been resting quite enough. The least she could do was make the job easier. So taking a deep breath to steady herself, Alison shut her eyes. Then she pushed herself from the vault's wall. Purposely slow, she rolled back onto her shoulder, carefully maneuvering her retrained arms around her body. Barely wincing, she managed to bring her hands to the front of her. Wasting no more time, she quickly went to work freeing her wrists from the plastic strap. It took a few moments, but she finally got the mechanism right and slipped out of the loosened handcuffs.

"What the _fuck_?!" Job's incredulous voice caught her attention. For a second, Alison spared the man a glance before reaching for her ankles. "You watched us try to get these damn things off for ten minutes, and you could've got out yourself this whole damn time?!" Impassively, she tossed the plastic across the room, and then moved to stand. She moved across the room and over to the incensed Asian man. Kneeling behind him, she worked to remove his constraints as well. "How'd you even do it?!"

Alison frowned as she slipped the strap from his wrists. Truthfully, she had learned. One of the harsh methods of her mother—and apparently Kai Proctor—when she had been a teenager. She had been kept out in the woods all night until she had figured out how to get out. It had taken her a full twenty four hours to come up with three methods. "Like I'm gonna tell you that… _thief_ ," Alison retorted as she removed the zip tie from his ankles.

"This bitch ain't fair," he told his other comrades as he rubbed his abused wrists.

Ignoring him, Alison shifted to release Carrie next. The woman had been in the midst of trying to use an edge of a piece of machinery to cut through the binds. Trying and failing. Alison quickly turned her to get at the other woman's binds. Job went over to Sugar to get him out of his restraints. "Looks like he came through," she muttered. "Surprising, but he doesn't stand a big chance by himself. We have to get to him if we want to make it out of here alive." With a grunt, she forced the plastic off Carrie's wrists, and the dropped down to her ankles. "Someone will come to take us to use as shields. We take them out, get their weapons. All of them have more than one on their person, so no problem there."

"God, Alison, it feels like you've been _waiting_ for this moment," Carrie remarked.

She _had_ been waiting for this moment. Calculating and planning for this moment. A big enough diversion had come along, and she wasn't about to waste its potential. "Are you kidding? Renegade for life. Time to spill a little merc blood," Alison said. Not waiting to see if Carrie had caught the reference—Lena would have instantly—she hurried towards the door. There was a small place where she could hide, waiting for an unsuspecting enemy to come through. The door would open and keep her from view. "Carrie, with me! You two be distractions!"

"Who the hell put her in charge?" Job questioned, yet moved to sit on the floor beside Sugar.

"I'm not gonna question a renegade," Carrie muttered, following after Alison. Huh. Maybe she had caught the reference, after all. The woman put herself in front, bending her knees, body tensed and ready for some enemy to come through that door. The reason she had chosen Carrie had to do with the fact that the woman could obviously hold her own. She had gone through the several reports of how Mrs. Hopewell had taken out so many armed men, supposedly by herself. Might have been a cover up, but cover ups usually had some truths. It was a gamble, but hopefully things would finally turn in their favor.

After a few moments of waiting, the door slammed open and a man with a dark baseball cap walked in. "Okay, bitch! Let's go!" he exclaimed. Noticing that half of the hostages had seemingly disappeared, he aimed his assault rifle at the two men. "Where the hell are they?!"

Perfectly distracted. Carrie chose that moment to move. She crept up behind the man, and without pause, struck his temple with her left fist. Then she kneed his torso, causing him to double over and drop his weapon. An elbow strike to the back of the head caused the man to completely crumble under the coordinated attack.

Alison raised her eyebrows, impressed by the sight. The gamble had paid off. Carrie had known exactly where to hit in order to put him in an unconscious state. "Yeah, probably could've been friends," Alison muttered, moving out of hiding and dropping down to pilfer the body. Sugar and Job stood up and made their way over. The Asian man picked up the discarded gun while she pulled a pistol out of the man's leg holster.

Just as she got a grip on the gun, the door on the far side of the room opened. Eyes widening, even though she had expected another, she felt panic flood her system. The arrival was just as armed as the last guy, and he wasn't the Sheriff. Job immediately opened fire, snapping Alison out of her panicked state. She rushed behind the cover of a forklift, along with Carrie and Sugar. She grit her teeth, forcing herself to ignore the throbbing in her head for now. Her eardrums rang in protest to the loud sounds of gunfire, but she couldn't worry about that right now. Job grunted, moving to crouch down beside her. Just in time, too, because the man had returned the spray of bullets in retaliation.

"I'm gonna circle around and draw his fire!" Carrie shouted over the roar of bullets. "Ready?!"

As if the whole of the situation wasn't already risky, she had intended to do something unnecessarily risky. They could just wait until the clip ran out, after all. But before Alison could speak up, Job told her to go and Carrie sprang from her position. Too fast to stop her. Grimacing, she remained where she was, cursing that they had already begun to split up despite earlier words of sticking together. Job provided her cover fire as she made her way to the open door. Alison watched her make it safely behind the wall. At least, she hadn't been struck down.

The back and forth of bullets continued for a few moments more before only echoes of the gunfight filled the room. Then something clattered to the floor. The clip. The man was in the midst of changing. Job understood the sound as well, and rushed out of cover. With bated breath, she waited for more gunfire. She hadn't had to wait long. Three pistol shots went off, followed by the heavy thud of a body. Alison peeked out of cover to discover that Job was still standing and the merc was on the floor. She breathed out a sigh of relief, standing to her full height.

"Sugar!" Job called out.

"I'm clear!" the man called back, following her out of hiding.

Alison approached Job as he pulled a pistol from the dead man. The sound of muffled gunfire told her that a concentration of the fight laid just beyond the door the dead man had entered. The Sheriff must still be alive despite the odds, meaning he had brought help. Job appeared to be about to push the door open to join the fray. "Wait!" she stopped his efforts. Turning back to her, he held a glare. "I'm not gonna be much help, so-" Alison handed the pilfered pistol over to Sugar. That one minute lesson from Brock she had had a few months back wasn't going to cut it this time around. "-I'll see about finding Carrie."

Job gave a sharp nod before he turned his attention back to the door. Sugar joined him, holding the pistol upward. Alison took a deep breath, and then turned away from them just as the door was pushed open. She ignored the sound of gun fire in favor of stopping in front of the unconscious man. Yes, she would go looking for Carrie, but she wasn't stupid. She needed a weapon herself. If she was right, this guy would have a melee weapon for close combat. Her hands gripped the Velcro on the man's vest. She would take his defense against bullets, too.

Trying to work quickly, she pulled the vest over her torso and did her best to strap the Velcro back in place. It was big on her, but it would do for now. Satisfied, Alison reached for the man again, aiming to find a knife on his person. Just as she went for the man's left pocket, her wrist was grabbed. Sucking in a harsh breath, she shifted her gaze upward. She met the angry eyes of the supposedly unconscious man. He hadn't been out for as nearly enough time as anticipated. A punch to the face sent Alison to the ground.

Shit.

0-0

They were pinned. Only a few yards away from their target and Hood and himself were pinned behind a goddamn military truck. The enemies had gathered together right in front of the building with the hostages. And with the constant hail of bullets, they hadn't made any headway. Hopewell was somewhere else, doing his best to keep stragglers away from sneaking up on them, but he also had to contend with a rival sniper. He was at a disadvantage because the other sniper hadn't needed to keep going back into cover from his position, while the Mayor had to, least he be shot and taken out.

Kurt grit his teeth, crouching lower. This couldn't continue. Eventually, they would think of some type of plan to get at them, and not even Hopewell would be able to stop groups of them. He breathed harshly through his nose. Squeezing his eyes shut, he prepared himself. So many times before he had thought he could and would do anything for Alison. It was time to stop thinking. Kurt gripped his weapon hard. He breathed out through clenched teeth, and then ran. Haphazardly, firing off his gun, he darted over to the next cover, another building, which provided more coverage. His back hit the wall, and he started breathing again.

He was right where he needed to be. Groaning, he looked down at his arm. A bullet had managed to graze the side of his shoulder. He didn't feel anything now, but once the adrenaline wore off, it was probably going to be painful. _"Worth it,"_ Kurt thought, shifting his eyes. The sounds of gunfire had yet to cease, so he had a window of opportunity while the Sheriff and the Mayor continued to distract. Wasting no more time, he pushed himself from the wall. He moved quickly, gun ready to take out any enemy that he came across. Fortunately, he didn't have to fire this time. He came across his target—a building with a ladder propped against it. The man seemed none the wiser. Too busy trying to snipe.

Kurt removed a hand grenade from the pocket of his vest. Before, he had been too far away to use it, but this seemed like a perfect time for it. It was the only one he had because Hood had taken all but one of them away for the truck. Quickly, he pulled the pin and tossed it onto the roof. After a few seconds, the blast, along with a grunt, sounded, letting Kurt know that he could go up now. He moved his main weapon behind him by turning the strap around his body. Then he hastily climbed up the ladder, pulling out a pistol as he did. Making it to the top, he saw that the grenade had done its job for the most part. The man lay sprawled, grunting in an effort to grab his sniper rifle.

Upon noticing him, the man reached for his leg holster for his handgun, but Kurt had already steadied himself on top of the roof. He moved forward, pulling the trigger several times. The third or fourth bullet pierced the man's skull, killing him. He approached cautiously, gun still raised just in case. The man didn't move again. Finally letting go of the breath he had been holding, Kurt lowered his pistol, and then shoved it into the pocket of his pants. He dropped down, picking up the discarded sniper rifle.

He propped the gun up, looking through the scope. On a separate roof, the Mayor appeared to be loading another round into his gun. The man looked in his direction and gave a slight nod. Good. Kurt didn't need to worry about coming under fire then. He shifted the line of fire to the ground below. Specifically, more towards the original target. Through magnified vision, he saw that the Sheriff's friend and the bartender, Mr. Bates, had managed to get free and join the firefight. Mrs. Hopewell and… Alison were nowhere in sight. Frowning, Kurt once again shifted his line of sight. They would be found, but right now, he needed to focus on clearing out the enemy. So steeling himself, he focused on new targets. Together, he and the Mayor began picking off the remaining obstacles.

Moments passed, and eventually, the rapid gunfire ceased. Kurt did a sweep of the area, finding only dead bodies of the enemy on the ground. They had done it. They had won. Finally. Swallowing, he moved from his position, leaving behind the sniper rifle. His movements were quick, and all too soon, he made it down to where the Sheriff was. Gun still in his hands, Hood walked towards his friends. Kurt followed after, eyes darting around in search of Alison. Maybe she had taken to hiding? It would have been smart of her.

"Sorry I took so long," Hood greeted the two men.

"Tell me you didn't bring the whole fucking Sheriff's department," the Asian man said, glancing his way.

" _Nah_ , just him," the Sheriff assured. He looked around. "Where's Carrie?"

"And the District Attorney?" Kurt added to the question.

" _HOOD_!" A shout caused all four men to aim pistols towards where the shout had come from. A man held a bloody Mrs. Hopewell at gunpoint. The barrel pressed against the woman's temple as an arm wrapped around her neck. "Put the gun down or I'll blow her head off!" Kurt nearly growled, noticing that the District Attorney was not among them. Where the hell was Alison? Had she been hurt like Mrs. Hopewell? Was she being used as someone's meat shield? He didn't have time for this hostage situation. He needed to make sure she was okay.

0-0

Alison's back slammed against a wall. Her captor hadn't been gentle at all. He had dragged her to a different location—an office of some sort, equipped with a desk… and a broken plaque. Her shoes had been lost along the way so her bare feet had gravel stuck to the soles and the cold floor wasn't helping her feel too good. The man who had taken her hardly paid attention to what he had done. Instead, he looked out of the window, attempting to see anything. The sounds of gunfire hadn't gone away during the time it had taken to get here. "What the hell's going on? Where's Stowe?" the man mumbled to himself.

"You brought this on yourself," Alison spoke up. "I'm guessing the Sheriff's department doesn't take too kindly to having the DA being kidnapped."

"Shut up, bitch," he retorted, sharply turning to her. Alison clenched her jaw as he approached her. "This backwater village shouldn't even had the balls to try going against us. And for what? _You_? No." She visibly frowned at the insinuation. "Keep your mouth shut and don't move."

"You need to be smart about this," Alison told him. "Whatever I may be to you, it doesn't change the fact that you've kidnapped a _District Attorney_. Stowe's going down for that. You don't have to go down with him. Just let me walk out of here. Let me calm down the people who came for me, and we'll leave. I'll forget this ever-"

"I said _shut up_!" He yanked on the vest, pulling her closer to his snarling face. She hadn't been expecting the jerking, and had cried out in surprise, stumbling hard into his body. Her entire body went rigid in discomfort. Even with the padding of the vest in between them, her skin crawled. The man scoffed in her face. "You liked that, didn't you? Like being manhandled, don't you?" Alison's mouth suddenly felt dry. The longer he stared at her, the quicker she realized a familiarity in his expression. She swallowed painfully, hands lifting to shove him away. However, his grip on the vest was strong, and he barely moved an inch under her palms. "How about _you_ be smart about this?" He pressed himself against her, backing her against the wall again. "You do what I say…" His ugly eyes leered at her, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "And I might be able to keep you alive."

She was going to be sick. So many years had gone by, and yet here she was in the same damn situation. Monsters—it's like they could _sense_ it. Oh, she's been damaged. It'll be easy to just _take_. Everything in her reeled in protest as the monster leaned forward. His mouth met hers, causing her head to smack against the wall. With stinging in her eyes, Alison incisor clamped down on his lower lip. Hard. Enough they she could taste his blood in her mouth. The monster reared back, cursing obscenities at her. She didn't give him time to retaliate. Sharply twisting her body, she elbowed him in the face. The monster stumbled back, knocking over a chair and hitting the back of his head against the desk.

Unable to help herself, Alison dropped down, straddling the monster. He groaned and weakly tried to push her away. Unperturbed, she began pelting his face with hard punches. Eventually, he no longer tried to knock her away. He made no move to counter, so she kept doing it. Over and over, her left fist met his face. All the pain and rage she had felt when she had been sixteen broke through her normal state of mind. Like a geyser that had been repressed for too long, her anger shot out fast and hot, burning and spiraling. _Beat her until she breaks, Arita. Only then will she learn to survive_. Yes. Survive. It had been the reason she had been broken. So that she could _survive_. No one was going to make her feel helpless again.

Never again.

Never again.

Never again.

Kai Proctor had had a hand in what she had become. He had made her this way. He had broken her. Had made her into this type monster. He had been the reason she had gone out to take her power back. He had been the reason she could survive in a world full of monsters. And _fuck_ if she cared anymore. She would be a monster. She would unleash her rage on any monster that tried to _take_. And she would fucking enjoy it. Just like now.

Alison stopped, panting heavily, barely feeling the pain in her knuckles. She tilted her head back and shut her eyes. Her insides vibrated with elation. It had been too long since she felt this fake power coursing through her veins. For several moments, she merely sat there on top of the monster, waiting for her breaths to become steady again. Eventually, they did, and she crawled off, palms smacking against the floor. A slow sigh left her mouth as she rose from the floor.

Closing her eyes she realized that the guns had finally stopped going off. That meant one of two things. Either the Sheriff failed or Stowe's men had fallen. Lucas, thief though he may be, had proven himself to be skilled at gunplay. She had witnessed it herself, so she wouldn't count him out just yet, especially if he had brought help. Whatever the result, she had to make it out of here. The best option would be to arm herself. Alison went over to the desk and began pulling out drawers. A guy like Stowe would probably have an extra gun hidden away somewhere. After a few moments, she managed to find one in the bottom of a drawer, underneath papers.

It wouldn't do much good if the thing wasn't loaded, but she couldn't tell, and she didn't know how. Her hope was that she didn't need to use it. She hoped she could just sneak off the base without being spotted. It wasn't a good plan, but at least she wouldn't be behind enemy lines anymore. Clenching her teeth, she began to make her way out of the room. If she remembered correctly, a way out had been just around the corner. Luckily, she found it quickly.

After walking for a few moments, she finally came across Job. The Asian man was in the middle of examining an unmoving body. Alison recognized him as Stowe. The man had a large knife imbedded into his body. Clearly, he was dead. Still, she breathed out a sigh of relief. Job was alive, and that probably met their side had won. So relaxing, she began heading in his direction. With her guard down, she almost completely missed how Job's shoulder suddenly exploded with blood. She halted her walk, eyes widening as the man fell to his knees. With a silent gasp, Alison ducked behind a nearby vehicle. It was large enough to conceal her.

Her breaths came out fast and shaky, coming to the realization that not everyone had fallen. Jesus Christ. Alison shut her eyes, thinking back to what she had seen. Either that had been a miss, or the shot hadn't intended to kill. Furrowing her brow, she opened her eyes again, and then peeked out from her hiding place. She witnessed a man, without military garb, but clearly armed, approached Job as he held his injured shoulder. The unknown man wrapped an arm around Job's neck, obviously intending to choke him out.

Gnashing her teeth, Alison completely came out of hiding. The man was too busy to notice her quietly coming up behind him. At least until she pressed the barrel of the gun to the back of his neck. He had lowered himself to his knees in order to render Job unconscious, so it had been quite easy to get the drop on him. Plus, Alison had already thought he wasn't militant. He probably wouldn't know how to counter, which was good. "Drop him and your weapon. Now." The order was met by the man slowly turning his head to try and get a look at her. Alison cocked the gun. "I'm not going to say it again."

The man paused, but eventually released his hold on Job. Her temporary ally hadn't moved. Still breathing, but not moving. Next was the gun. Alison pressed harder, intending to make it clear that if he tried anything, his brains would be all over the ground. The gun, which was equipped with a silencer, was placed on the ground beside the unconscious Job. Then the man slowly turned to face her, hands raised in surrender. Alison kept the gun leveled with his head. "Wait… I know you," he murmured. His blue eyes showed relief, and she raised a curious brow. "You're the District Attorney—Alison Medding."

"I don't care," she replied.

"No, listen. There's a misunderstanding here," the man continued. "I'm… I'm not with them. My name is Leo Fitzpatrick. I-I just worked here for Stowe as his head of security—that's it."

"Yeah…? And just what were you doing with him?" Alison questioned, tilting her head a bit in Job's direction.

"Him…?" Leo repeated. "He's… He's a criminal. You see, we're kinda the same, aren't we? We put bad people in jail. I was just taking him for some much needed justice. You understand, right? We're on the same side."

Alison heard what he said, but her attention was focused on the look in his eyes. His lips had begun to tug upwards, maybe thinking he was doing a good job at convincing her. His blue, greedy eyes stared up at her, and she could see the same ugliness she had seen before. Justice, her ass. His eyes were the same as those monster when she had been sixteen. When she had been seventeen. The same as those monsters from a few months back. The very same as the monster she had left behind to bleed out. He may not have wanted the same thing, but he wanted something from Job that he had no right to have. This person in front of her now wanted to _take_ just as much as the others. Alison had a hard time swallowing the bile that had rose in her throat.

"The same side, huh?" she chuckled without humor. The forming grin almost instantly turned upside down. "I suppose, in the end, we're all monsters. But the thing is, _Leo_ … My monster is disgusted by _your_ monster." The man scrunched up his eyebrows, clearly confused by her word choice. It didn't exactly matter what he thought. "The difference between us is… my monster will live to see another day." He understood that implication well enough. Narrowing his eyes, he lunged for her, probably intending to pry the gun from her hands. Alison didn't give him the chance.

She stepped back while simultaneously firing. Unashamed, she emptied the gun of its bullets into the body of the monster, watching in satisfaction as his blood splattered around. She ignored the ringing in her ears as she lowered the gun. She had killed in cold blood. Maybe in self-defense. Maybe in a calculated manner. She would decide later. For now, she would take pleasure in ridding the world of another monster.

"JOB!"

A shout snapped her out of it, and Alison sharply turned to see who had called out for the Asian man. The Sheriff… and Kurt came from around a large truck, pistols poised to fire. Alison sucked in a sharp breath, surprised to see him. In that moment, everything bled away. The anger, pain, gratification—it all fell away at the sight of him. Only Kurt Bunker and the utter relief flooded through her. She released a shaky pant, and turned her herself to face him. Eyes zeroing in on the way his lips formed her name, Alison darted forward. A little unsteady, she moved towards him, dropping the empty gun on her way.

She ignored the gravel that dug into the bottom of her feet, and practically threw herself at Kurt. He let the pistol fall from his hand, and immediately opened his arms to embrace her. The collision of their bodies was rough and intense, but the moment his arms wrapped around her, Alison could only see it has a comfort. Her arms moved around his torso, holding on tightly. Like he was her lifeline. "I thought…!" Kurt squeezed her in response, one hand moving to palm the back of her head. "I thought— _Christ_ , Alison!"

Burying her face against his covered chest, she shut her eyes. She was safe. She was finally safe. In his strong hold, she felt herself trembling. Jesus Christ. She had had hunches before. The strongest of them hitting her just last night. It had been a sharp grasp of the shift, but now, right here, it wasn't just a hunch. She didn't know what it was about this situation... It could have been seeing his face after going through such an ordeal. It could have been hearing his deep voice, whispering her name over and over again, so damn happy and thankful to have her in his arms—that she was whole. It could have been because he had come for her in the first place. Whatever the reason, the hunch had shifted to certainty.

She was in love with him.

Alison had never felt it before. But she was positive this was love. The way he looked at her. The way he made her feel. The way his mere presence was enough to comfort her. It was love. She loved her monster man. Her _man_. Biting her lower lip, she reared back, shifting her gaze upward. Kurt stared down at her, content and unblinking. He opened his mouth, but Alison didn't give him time to speak again. She pulled him down. Their lips met in a kiss. He stilled at first, but almost instantly pushed back. It was unlike any of the kisses they had already shared. It was as rough as their earlier collision, and just as consoling. Maybe she just wanted to completely get rid of the last guy that had touched her, but mostly… mostly it was reassurance. _I'm here_ , she told her through their joined lips. _I got you_ , he replied, pushing back just as hard.

The obnoxious sound of a throat being cleared caused Alison to rip away from Kurt. She turned a glare on the Sheriff. With both eyebrows raised and mouth wide open, he looked the very part of flummoxed. He looked back and forth between then. At one point, he scratched at his forehead. "I feel like I'm interrupting… Wh-Why? _What_?" Lucas managed to get out.

"No, this was-" Kurt cleared his throat, dropping his arms away from Alison's body. He faced his boss, red dotting his cheeks. "She was just… _Uh_ … She was _thanking_ me. Bu-But there's no reason for that, District Attorney Medding." He glanced at her. "Any deputy would have done the same." It was incredibly ridiculous… and sweet that he had attempted to cover up what the Sheriff had clearly witnessed. Alison forced herself not to smile.

"Right…" Lucas drawled out, obviously not believing his deputy's words. "I'm gonna go check on Job, but I'm pretty sure we're gonna have to talk about this."

"Oh, we'll definitely have a _talk_ , Sheriff," Alison spoke up. The man matched her frown, but nodded in understanding. Then he moved, going over to the fallen Job. She watched him, shoulders sagging. Her eyelids lowered. Apparently, the adrenaline was beginning to fade. Exhaustion slowly slipping in. "Kurt…" She turned to him. He was already staring expectedly at her. "I think I'm ready for that soup now." The slightest tug of the corner of his lips made her smile.

"Okay, let's get you home," Kurt replied.

0-0


	13. This Could Be Paradise

Alison was quiet.

She had been ever since they had left the CADI. After what seemed like hours of questioning about the events at Camp Genoa, the CID finally allowed the surviving participants to leave. Before the organization had shown up, they had all gotten their stories straight, so there hadn't been repercussions for their actions. For now, at least. Maybe once they had finished scrubbing the camp, they would be back for more questions. Until then, the group of people could do as they pleased. At the moment, four of them had been piled into the Mayor's SUV. The other three had decided to go elsewhere, probably to patch up Job because the man had refused to go to the hospital.

Kurt glanced at the woman on his right. She was still covered in blood. Her cheek had darkened because of the large bruise. He wished he could have taken care of that as soon as possible, but other matters had gotten in the way. Now, he could get the chance. Alison's house was quickly approaching and he had already made up his mind to take care of her. She would let him stay, wouldn't she? The vehicle came to a stop in the driveway. The Mayor put it in park and looked back at his friend. "Are you sure we can't drive you to the hospital, Alison?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she replied, opening the door. Her brown eyes shifted to Kurt for a second. She tilted her head, and he knew that it meant she wanted him to come with. He moved to get out as well. It was obvious Hopewell was about to protest given the large gulp of air he sucked in. "Go home, Gordon. Take care of your wife. Goodnight, Carrie." Leaving no room for argument, the District Attorney climbed out and slammed the door shut.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hopewell," Kurt acknowledged with a slight nod before he, too, climbed out of the SUV. He followed Alison to her porch. He watched as she lowered herself and reached for the potted plant. She gripped the stems and pulled it up, along with compacted dirt. Her hand disappeared inside the pot for a few seconds before she pulled a dirty silver key. Obviously, it was a spare to her home, which made him think that her things had been left behind at the camp. Maybe eventually, her belongings would be returned to her.

After fumbling with the lock for a moment, Alison opened the door to her house. Kurt followed behind her, watching her pass the living room. He turned to shut the front door and lock it. She was still so quiet. He wanted to ask her, but after what she had gone through, maybe it was best that she didn't talk. For now, at least. With a sigh, Kurt went further into her house. He found her in the kitchen, standing next to the refrigerator. She had taken a bottled water out and was pressing it against her right cheek. It should have been done a long time ago, but better late than never, he guessed.

Alison noticed his presence, and her eyes darted up to meet his. For a moment, she only stared, and then lowered the bottle from her face. She set it down on the counter behind her before turning her attention back to him. "Come here," she said. No hesitation, Kurt obliged. As he made his way over to her, Alison moved further away, choosing to stand over the sink. She sank down and opened the lower cabinet. Standing up, she now held a first aid box. "Let me take a look," she said, placing the kit on the counter. Her hands reached for him, fingers curling to tug his shirt upward.

"Wait, your hands," Kurt's feeble protest fell on deaf ears as Alison removed his shirt. She tossed it to the side and began examining the wide gash on the side of his shoulder. It had stopped bleeding, and honestly, he had forgotten about it. "I'm fine," he told her. "Let me-"

"You got _shot_ , Bunker!" Alison cut in, almost glaring at him. The rest of his protest had quickly wilted. "This isn't even my blood." Her gaze lowered for a moment. "You got shot… for me. So let me take care of you first."

Kurt could only nod at her demand. Sighing deeply, Alison went to work on his arm. Tentatively, she began cleaning around the injury. She worked silently, concentrating. It gave him time to look at her—really look at her. Not her blood, she had said. She looked too similar to that night at the CADI, though. Covered in blood that hadn't been hers. Only this time, she hadn't wiped any of it away. Her arms, neck, and face had been splattered. She probably wouldn't wear the top again since there was so much blood. Her hand was bloodied, too.

The image had stunned him at the time. After the Mayor had saved his wife by shooting the fingers off Stowe, he had relaxed. He had realized that he had had time to search for Alison. But only a few moments later, he had heard the gun shots. For several long moments, he had thought someone had… And then he had rushed around that truck and found her standing there, as bloody and magnificent as she had been when she had saved his life. His dangerous monster goddess. Standing tall, bloody, but alive. He had been so relieved that he hadn't thought twice about his actions, even though he had known the Sheriff had followed him. He had been so thankful and so taken by the sight of her that now the Sheriff _knew_ about them. Kurt wondered if that met more people would come to know.

"Okay, I'm done," Alison's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He shifted his line of sight to his arm, noting the gauze that had been wrapped, holding a thicker cloth in place where the injury was. Her fingers smoothed over the area, appearing satisfied with her work. "I'll take a look again in the morning."

"Okay… Now, can I…?" Kurt nearly pleaded. Alison pursed her lips, but nodded her head. He immediately lifted her up to sit on her the counter. She hadn't even yelped in surprise. His hands lingered on her hips seconds longer than he had planned while she watched him. Clearing his throat, he removed his hands, busying himself by turning on the faucet beside her. He felt her eyes on him, but she remained quiet. Taking her left hand, he held it under the flow of water, slowly massaging away the dry blood. Once clean, he saw the cuts in her skin. Her knuckles and fingers had been sliced into by teeth… by bone maybe. She had been ferocious to whoever had suffered her wrath. "What happened?" he asked, grabbing one of the kitchen rags from the small rack above the sink. They seemed to be more decorative than anything, especially since Alison had a dishwasher.

Alison drew in a soft breath as he began to dry her hand. "I… I stayed behind at the diner longer than I should have, talking to Carrie," she began. "Stowe came in and was being all threatening, so I couldn't just leave her by herself with him. He ended up taking me, too." Kurt frowned, dropping the rag into the sink. He then traced one of the cuts on her knuckle, lightly circling the cut. "Oh… You meant…" Again, she breathed softly, gathering words. As she prepared herself to answer him, Kurt reached for the ointment that had been left out of the first aid box. He carefully applied the ointment, briefing thinking back to when their positions had been reversed. The night she had initially—willingly—touched him. "I was… separated from the rest of the hostages while everyone was shooting. I was taken away by this guy who I thought had been knocked unconscious. I don't know why he took me—maybe to await further orders? Regardless, we were alone… and he tried to... _not_ spare me."

Kurt halted his movements—just froze for several seconds as the information sank in. Some _piece of shit_ had tried to attack Alison? "That motherfucker…!" he growled out, imagining a faceless bastard that had had the gull to go after her in the middle of a fucking warzone. His anger flared, and he had a hard time suppressing it. "Is he dead?" Alison didn't reply for a long moment. Then she shrugged her shoulders. "You should have made sure," he told her through clenched teeth. "Or told me sooner and _I_ would have made sure!" To his mild surprise, she didn't flinch away from his obvious ire. In fact, the corners of her lips lifted as though pleased.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Kurt," Alison said. He opened his mouth to object. What? It didn't matter? The last time, when _he_ had unintentionally hurt her that way, she had reacted in the only way that had made sense. Scared. Vulnerable. She must have felt the same, right? Seemingly knowing where his thoughts had gone, Alison shook her head. Her palms slid against his cheeks, and the anger and guilt left him at her gentle touch. "It doesn't matter," she insisted. "What does matter is that…" She leaned forward, lightly pressing the tip of her nose against his. "You came for me."

"Of course I did," Kurt replied.

"And I care more about that than what some monster _tried_ to do," Alison said. She shifted her head, tenderly smoothing her lips against his. Kurt felt his eyebrows rise at her action. They were together. He knew that, and understood. But he also understood that Alison had gone through something horrible. He had realized that she couldn't so easily give affection. He had thought he would be the one to give and give. But here she was, willingly kissing him. So gentle. So giving. Christ. It was nice. Kurt shut his eyes, returning her affectionate gesture, quietly reveling in how easy this felt. His hands reached for her hips and tugged her forward, closer to him. But why did this feel so different? It wasn't reassuring or deep. It wasn't fueled by hunger and lust. It was just… something else entirely. He enjoyed it almost more than the other kisses they had shared, and he wouldn't mind more of this type of kiss.

After another moment, Alison reared back, sliding her hands down his cheeks, his neck, before her fingers finally curled around the neck of his undershirt. Kurt sighed deeply, wrapping his fingers around her wrists. He watched her bite down on her lower lip as she stared back at him. "I just… I just want to make sure you're okay," he said. Alison lowered her gaze and dipped her chin.

"I… I'm tired, Kurt," she admitted. "I'm processing. It's probably going to take a couple days. You know, it was a couple days after what happened with Chayton that I went home and cried myself to sleep, so after a few days, I guess I'll be okay. So… If—could you stay the night until that happens?"

"If you want me to, yeah," Kurt nodded his head. He was surprised that she would admit that. The night she referred to him had been the night he had approached her, wanting to show his thanks for saving his life. He hoped that he hadn't been part of the reason for her tears. "Anything."

"Thank you," Alison said. Her hands pushed him a bit, allowing her to hop down from the counter. "I'm going to change now." Kurt quietly watched her walk away. She had sounded so sure that she would break down because of what had happened at the camp. On one hand, he was dreading when that came. On the other hand, he was glad that she trusted him so much—that she could rely on him in her a vulnerable state. He felt himself smiling a bit. It wouldn't be enough for her. He had to do something else besides just be there. So as he turned and began searching her cabinets for canned soup, Kurt began thinking of ways he could help her. Help to take her mind off Genoa.

0-0

The past few days had been relatively peaceful. Alison hadn't had it in her to sit around her house all day, sleeping or pacing, so her return to work had been quick. Fortunately, the Mayor hadn't decided to give her a mandatory therapy. Hell, Gordon hadn't attempted getting into contact with her at all. This would be the first time they had spoken since he had dropped her off. For the moment, he chose to sit in one of the chairs opposite her desk, brooding. Alison did her best to ignore him as she typed away on her work laptop. Currently, they were both waiting for the arrival of the Sheriff. The three of them were going to discuss plans and such. She had already come up with something. So _discussing_ was a bit of a stretch.

So in the time of waiting for the Sheriff, Alison focused on the document in front of her. Then, of course, Gordon grew tired of just waiting in silence. Lucas was already five minutes late. No doubt he was dragging his feet, trying to push back this meeting for as long as he could. The Mayor sighed in a pointed way. Alison discretely rolled her eyes, sensing that he wanted to talk now. She saved her work, and then shut the lid of her laptop. After pushing the computer to the side, she leaned back in her seat, locking her fingers together in front of her.

"Something on your mind, Gordon?"

"Yeah," he replied, chuckling without humor. "A lot of things actually." When she chose not to respond to his words, Gordon stood up. "What the fuck, Alison? You're _friends_ with that Nazi?!" There it was. "Why didn't you _tell_ me?! I had to hear it from _him_ while your life was in danger?!" Fortunately, the door was shut. His voice had risen with each question. "I knew…! I knew something was up with you these last couple of months, but _this_ …? I can't even wrap my head around it!"

"My free time is my business," Alison calmly stated. "And if I choose to spend some of it with Kurt-" Gordon scoffed. She forced herself to ignore it. "-it shouldn't be a concern for you."

"Shouldn't be…? Are you serious?" he questioned. "Of course I should be concerned, Alison! He's a fucking _Nazi_! Men like him hurt you in the worst way imaginable, and now you're willingly spending time with someone like him?! And for _months_ at that! Why are you acting like this is completely normal?! Have forgotten what happened to you?!"

"Why do you think you have _any_ say?" she asked.

"Because _we're_ friends, or so I thought!" Gordon retorted. "Can't you see how worrying this is? I don't know how this started, and I don't care, but this is _not_ good for you." A flash of irritation shot through her. Alison clicked her tongue and glanced away from the heated man in front of her. While she appreciated his concern, it was ultimately not needed. She knew Kurt. Gordon didn't. So as far as she was concerned, he had no right. "This scum is going to hurt you just like his so called _brothers_ if they ever hear about this."

"Don't call him that," Alison said. "He's not who you think he is."

"What? Because he's _change_? People like him _don't_ change—they can't."

Wow. This conversation again. And all it took was three months of knowing Kurt Bunker to know that wasn't all the way true. Alison looked down for a moment and bit her lower lip. "You know what, Gordon," she began. She crossed her arms. "The fact that I can spend time with him in the first place—that I can be _comfortable_ with him—should you tell you that he's different than what you think." Not convinced, he opened his mouth. "I love him." Those words seemed to knock the protest right off his tongue. Alison took some satisfaction from his utterly flabbergasted expression. Not only that but, it had been oddly liberating. Saying it out loud, never mind that it had to be Gordon, had felt good. "I… I love him." Her repeat of words caused the Mayor to drop down in his seat, hand reaching up to slid his fingers in his hair.

"This is…" Gordon managed.

"Again, _none_ of your business," Alison finished for him. His eyes turned her to her, and she leaned forward, hands still clasped. "Worry as much as you want, Gordon. It won't change how I feel towards him. I trust him with more than just my life. I know he would never hurt me. Regardless, it's my decision to have him in my life. Not yours." A knock at the door caused her to shift her eyes. The conversation was over, anyway. "Come in!" she called. Sheriff Lucas Hood walked in, head dipped down and a boyish grin on his face. "You're late," she told him, unimpressed.

"Sorry, traffic was hell," he replied with a shrug. He closed the door behind him, and then walked forward to sit beside Gordon. The Mayor made no move to greet the man. Apparently, he was still stewing. "So we're all here. What are we talking about?"

"The fact that you _stole_ six million dollars," Alison stated. He lost his grin and sat up, tense and alert. "It's unacceptable that I found out about it, Sheriff. What you do in your personal life should _never_ reach my ears. Under normal circumstances, trust me when I say we _wouldn't_ be talking. You understand?"

"Straight to the point— _yep_ ," Lucas said. He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. "So tell me why this isn't a normal circumstance."

"You are the reason I'm alive," Alison said. Then she shrugged lightly. "That, and I actually like you." A slight smirk tugged at his lips. "So I'm willing to keep what I know to myself on two conditions. One, your resignation."

"… That's fair," Lucas muttered.

"After, at least, a year," she continued. His eyebrows rose, clearly surprised. Gordon had snapped out of his slump and was also looking at her incredulously. "I'm not going to deny your skills as a Sheriff. You bring the criminals, and I put them away. The last couple of Sheriffs this town has had weren't as good as you at that, so I'm willing to keep you on board. Hell, you might be able to bring me Proctor in the end." Her explanation was met by silence from both men. "After a year, you will quietly resign, after making sure you leave behind adequate candidates to replace you."

"So you want me to leave Banshee then?"

"Whether or not you stay in Banshee is up to you. I don't care what you do after you're no longer Sheriff," Alison rejoined. "That is unless you're caught stealing in my district again. Then I get to put you away, of course."

" _Of course_ ," he repeated. "But I thought you liked me."

"You're cute," she admitted. "But you're not _that_ cute."

"Yeah, not as cute as Bunker, huh?" Lucas had the nerve to sass. Alison frowned, not liking the comment in the least. Gordon, too, hadn't seemed to find the remark amusing. He glared hard and crossed his arms. Well, honestly, the Mayor generally did not like the things that came from Lucas' mouth, but that happened to come too soon after he had learned of her affection towards the ink covered man. The Sheriff cleared his throat and looked away, realizing that his humor was not about to win him any points. "Right, and the second condition?"

"You anonymously donate half of what you stole to Banshee."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Lucas asked, astonished.

All humor drained away, and Alison had to force herself not to smirk at him. "You want to fight me on this, Sheriff?" she questioned, sharply. "Because I can anonymously donate this recorded conversation straight to CID." The man visibly clenched his jaw. "Resign after a year, donate half of the six million, and I'll keep my mouth shut and destroy the leverage. If not, you'll be thoroughly investigated. You'll go to jail. Your friends will go to jail. And I take all the money instead of just half. This is a good deal. You should take it."

"… And if I just run?"

"Please do." Alison could no longer hold back her smirk. She leaned forward as though to tell him a secret. "I actually enjoy the chase." The tension in the Sheriff's jaw became a bit tighter, and his pupils dilated. Alison narrowed her eyes, wondering about that reaction, but to be honest, she didn't very much care for it.

"You should just take it, Hood," Gordon spoke up. "Carrie would agree to those terms, anyway. She doesn't care about the money anymore."

"Yeah, it's not _Carrie_ I'm worried about," Lucas grumbled, tearing his eyes away from her. Alison had an idea of who he would be worried about. She didn't know Job very well, but it was obvious he would react to this deal with contempt and disgruntlement. The Sheriff sighed deeply. "Fine—looks like I don't have a choice." Of course, he didn't. There was more at stake than just him being on the run. The man was obviously loyal, and he wouldn't just leave his friends behind. Nor his daughter. No matter what deal she had proposed, he would have agreed to it. There was no chance of him running. "So we're done here?"

"Yes," Alison said. "We're done. If there's nothing else, you can both go. I have work to do." Gordon opened his mouth as the Sheriff stood up from his chair. "And no, Gordon, we are not talking about that again. Accept it and move on. Handle your own affairs." The Mayor pursed his lips, obviously not happy, but he nodded his head and stood up as well. She watched the two men walk out of her office.

Maybe she had been too argumentative, but after yesterday, maybe she had needed to feel in control. Yesterday night, her reaction to the events at Genoa had come. Fortunately, Kurt had been there, as promised. And even better, he had offered to take her out of town for a weekend. Just the two of them, without having to worry about anything in Banshee. They could just relax. They would go see a movie— _Ant Man_ , she had cheered mentally when he had told her; she had been itching to see that _Marvel_ movie—and stay in a hotel. She couldn't wait for the weekend to come. For now, she supposed she had to deal with the rest of the week. Sighing to herself, Alison opened her laptop again.

0-0

Kurt couldn't help but smile as he watched Alison animatedly talk about the movie they had just witnessed. The theater was still dark as the end credits rolled up the screen. Other spectators were in the midst of making their exit, but the two of them stayed seated. There wasn't many in the first place, seeing as how the movie had come out about a month ago. The bright names on the screen was enough to make out her enthused expression as she told him her favorite parts. Admittedly, Kurt had fallen asleep for some of it. As long as she was happy with it, he would sit through any _Marvel_ movie with her.

They had driven far from Banshee in order to see this movie—almost three hours, actually. They had practically reached the border of the state. They had arrived at the hotel with plenty of time to spare before the movie had started, so they had gotten something to eat before venturing into the theater. He almost couldn't believe the Sheriff had let him have the weekend off. _I'm not trying to get on Alison's bad side… again_ , he had said, waving him off when Kurt had asked. He thought he would have had to persuade his boss. Getting the entire weekend off had been unheard of, especially for a rookie. Billy had been quite upset to hear about it, in which he had to be reminded that both Kurt and the Sheriff had gone through an ordeal, and had needed some time off. Billy begrudgingly agreed, but he had pouted for an entire day.

Anyway, Kurt was glad to have this time with her. Maybe they both needed this. Alison suddenly turned to him, smile on her face. "What'd you think?" she questioned. Kurt shrugged lightly. She hummed thoughtfully. "Well, this one had its moments, but I honestly can't wait until the next Avengers movie."

"You just want a chance to see Toki again."

"It's _Loki_!" Alison corrected with an eye roll. "And _hush_." She grinned as she stood up. Kurt stood up, too, matching her grin. "I'm going to the restroom first. Meet you in the lobby." The woman walked off, sliding her palm against his covered arm.

"I'll see if I can get you another _Icee_ ," Kurt told her. She smiled, and then disappeared around the corner. She had finished off her drink fifteen minutes into the movie. It had been a wonder why she hadn't complained about brain freeze. Chuckling to himself, he turned around and gathered their things. Alison had left her purse at the hotel. She had taken off her jacket during the movie, and so had he. So he draped their jackets over his arm and headed towards the exit.

When he got to the lobby, he was relieved that there weren't any people. It was late at night on a Saturday, so other shows must have been playing still. He went to the concession stand. One of the workers stopped having conversation and approached him with a smile on his face. Upon taking a look at him, the smile falter. Of course, it was always like this no matter where he went. The younger male eyed his visible ink before plastering on a fake smile. Before, Alison had been the one to get snacks, so no one actually noticed him until now.

Kurt cleared his throat. "May I please have a purple Icee?" The kid almost squeaked and scurried off. He held back a sigh as he waited. He didn't have to wait long. The worker set the plastic cup on the counter as he removed his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He pulled out a five dollar bill and set it on the counter. "You can keep the change." The kid looked to be straining to keep the customer service smile on his face. Keeping in another sigh, Kurt placed his wallet back into his pocket, and then took the drink and straw, quickly moving away from the stand.

He found a table and sat down. Again his eyes scanned the lobby floor as he idly wondered the time. Kurt reached into the right pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cell phone. He flipped it open and looked at the time displayed. Almost 11. He hadn't realized the movie had lasted so long. Then he noticed he had one new text message. Curious, he opened the app to see that Billy had been the one to text him. Well, of course, no one else would… besides Alison. _Hope you having fun_ , it said. His sarcasm came through loud and clear. Kurt could just imagine the pout his coworker probably had sported as he had written the message. Stifling a grin, he sent back a reply. _A blast_. The message would be sure to piss off Billy, and he was sure to walk into a shit storm on Monday, but it was worth it. It only took a few seconds to get another message. _Don't really like you right now, Bunk_.

Laughing, Kurt shook his head and snapped his phone shut. Billy was probably just upset about doing paperwork he normally pawned over on him. Upon looking up, he realized the lobby now had people in it. Another movie must have finished. He tensed a bit, eyes immediately looking around for Alison. She hadn't appeared yet. Kurt removed his hands from the table and lowered his head. As long as he didn't draw attention to himself, and no one looked twice his way, then he could wait for her in peace. The reassuring thought didn't stop his knee from bobbing up and down in a nervous manner. Maybe he should have waited in the truck.

"What the _fuck_?!"

Kurt winced at the volume of the shout. It had been a startled shout. And angry. Having come across it numerous times in Dade, he recognized it instantly. He hesitantly turned his head to the right to see a couple staring at him, clear bewilderment and disgust in their expressions. They were of darker complexions. The man, large and muscular, and the woman, soft and round. Damn it. They must have seen the ink on his face. Kurt's eyes darted elsewhere in search of Alison. Again, there was no sign of her.

"I don't believe this shit!" the man continued in a loud voice as he walked over. The woman at his side followed, but she appeared less excited about approaching him. Her hands gripped the man's arm, visibly looking as though she tried to tug him away. Her efforts were ignored. The man yanked his arm away from the woman. Kurt looked down at the table. "Yo! Yo, Nazi, I'm talking to _you_!" He remained quiet, part of him hoping that if he ignored the man, he would just take the hint and go away. "Oh? So you don't hear me?"

His question had been equipped with his palm smacking against the cup on the table. The large drink went flying, and Kurt stood up immediately, knocking his chair over. He stood toe-to-toe with the darker man, a surge of anger shooting through his chest. If it had been his Icee, he would not have reacted harshly, but since it had belonged to Alison… Kurt clenched his teeth, glaring at the man. His dark eyes glared right back. This was a mistake. He knew it the instant he had gotten up, but he hadn't been able to stop himself. This man clearly wanted a fight. Kurt had seen the swelled shoulders too many times in his life. It wouldn't take a whole lot for him to start throwing punches.

Swallowing hard, Kurt glanced to the left, hoping to spot Alison, so he would have an excuse to walk away. He did not see her, but he did notice that a crowd had gathered and had formed a semi-circle. Shit. Obviously, they had heard the commotion. Half of them appeared curious at the spectacle. The other half seemed eager for blood. All of them wore faces of distaste. He had to get this situation under control. One or two false moves, and this could very well turn into a riot type situation. A righteous riot against the obvious bad guy. The one covered in ugly tattoos.

Kurt returned his full attention to the man. He forced himself to relax under the steely gaze of the man standing opposite of him. If the man punched him, then he would be forced to defend himself. The outcome of the brawl wouldn't matter. It would just matter that he was a black man, and Kurt was a white supremacist. It would be a story that could reach back home. He didn't even want to think about those consequences. Shit. "What? You gon do something?" the man asked, sneering. "I _dare_ you."

"No, sir," Kurt replied. "I apologize for offending you. I don't mean any harm. I'm only waiting, and then I'll leave." The man sucked his teeth, clearly not convinced. "I don't want any trouble."

"Bullshit. If you didn't want trouble, you shouldn't have showed up with those fucking tattoos!"

"I understand that my physical appearance may be unsettling, but I can assure you-"

"Fuck you!" the man shouted.

Kurt dipped his chin, knowing that he deserved this scorn and ire. His tattoos, although he was ashamed, marked him as enemy number one. In a public setting, he couldn't relax. Never completely. He definitely should have waited in the truck. He turned his head, taking another look at the gathered crowd, hoping to see a glimpse of Alison. This time, he actually saw her. Near the back of the crowd. She, too, appeared to be watching, though her expression was unreadable. Nonetheless, her appearance met he could just leave this confrontation behind without it coming to blows.

Just as he was about to turn his full attention on the man, he noticed Alison shutting her eyes and turning away. His breath caught in his throat at the sight. For a long moment, he felt as though he couldn't breathe. It felt as though they were the only two in the room, and he could clearly see her back moving further and further away. He, of course, understood her reaction. Obviously, she wouldn't want to get involved. It was best if someone of her profession not be involved in such a thing. He knew that. He understood. He hadn't been expecting her to do anything anyway. But it didn't stop the distress. He didn't stop the way his stomach lurched. She had turned her back on him, and he had no right to feel anything other than acceptance. And yet…

Kurt tried to breathe again as he looked towards the man in front of him. Straining, he swallowed and grit his teeth. "Again, I apologize for my physical appearance," he said. "I'll leave now." He turned, fully intending on picking up the jackets that had fallen from his arm. However, just as he reached for the jackets, he felt a hard shove to his back, equipped with a 'damn right you will!' Kurt would have fallen over had it not been for the table. Lucky the thing had been nailed to the floor or both he and the table would have toppled over. He gripped the edge of the table, clenching his teeth hard enough for his brain to recognize it as painful. The anger was back, and he almost didn't want to repress it. Almost. So Kurt slowly turned back around to face the man. "Sir. You do not want this. _Walk away_."

His words had come out more aggressive than intended. He could tell by the way the man had faltered just a bit as though he was in the process of truly reconsidering. But Kurt's words had been too provoking. A man such of this would not take it as a warning. He would take it as a challenge. They had both provoked each other, and the only thing left to do was brawl. His eyes glared, watching the darker man tense and coil even more than he had been, obviously preparing to strike. And honestly, Kurt would let him have it—that first punch, maybe the next few after. Maybe if he got hit, it would replace the emptiness in his chest.

Suddenly, his clenched hand was covered. Kurt flinched before turning his head to his left. The ringing in his ears had ceased. He hadn't even known that his ears had been ringing until the drone had disappeared at the sight of her. Alison stared at him, expression open and soft. Her fingers curled around his fist, squeezing. Kurt let go of the breath he had been holding as his fingers uncurled, allowing her fingers to slide between his and grasp his hand more firmly. "You ready to go?" she questioned as though there was no one else around—no one else watching.

" _What_ the fuck?!"

The question came again, causing Alison to turn her head towards the obnoxious noise. Unimpressed, she raised a brow at the man. He was too busy staring at their joined hands, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. "Can I help you?" Alison asked. The man only managed to choke out nonsense. Alison made a show of rolling her eyes. "Jesus Christ…! This is the fifteenth time I have to explain this today! These tattoos are not permanent. He's an _actor_!"

"Wha-? Actor?" the woman standing behind the man blurted. "He's… And you're _with_ him?"

"Yes, I'm with him," Alison replied simply. Kurt felt his heart clench. "It's a very small role he has, but he's determined to crush it. _Method acting_ , he calls it. I bet he hit you with that 'I understand that my physical appearance may be unsettling' bit, didn't he?" Her question successfully caused the couple to lose the tension in their shoulders. The way she had tried to sound just like him—deep voice and all—must have made them lose their guard. The man barked out a laugh. It was a little forced. He nervously rubbed the side of his face as the woman behind him.

"You could have just said that, bruh," he muttered. "I was 'bout to start swinging."

"He _did_ try! _You_ didn't give him a chance! See? This is what I'm talking about! So quick to bring your fists into conversation!" the woman lightly slapped at his back. The man pressed his lips together, appearing contrite. The woman slowly shifted her eyes to Kurt. "I'm sorry about him... sir." In response, Kurt cleared his throat and nodded his head. "Good luck with your movie role." The woman roughly grabbed the man by the arm, and tugged him along. The departing couple quickly made their way to the exit, having hurried and hushed conversation. It all faded away. Even the crowd had dispersed since it was obvious that a fight would not break out.

Alison let out a heavy, relieved sigh, shoulders sagging. Kurt was right there with her. Had she not come up with that excuse, things might have turned messier than it should. Had she not come for him in the first place… Alison turned to him, free hand patting his chest. "Next time, just wait in the truck," she told him, slight chuckle in her voice. Kurt nodded his head once. Then dropped down to pick up their jackets. Not releasing his hold on her, he began walking towards the exit. He didn't let go until they were at his truck, and even then, he didn't want to. Christ. He didn't ever want to let go. "… Are you… Are you alright?" she asked as she climbed into the passenger side of the vehicle.

Kurt gave a jerky nod to answer her question. Alison frowned, brow scrunching closer together. She looked as though she wanted to say more, but she kept her mouth closed. Obviously, she wasn't satisfied with his unspoken answer, but he couldn't find the words to say out loud. Kurt closed her door, and then moved around the truck to the driver's side. Alright…? He was better than alright. He had thought she had left him, causing a void in his chest. Empty. But she hadn't. She had come for him, and filled his heart and lungs. She had filled him to the core with just her presence. He was… He was in love with her, wasn't he?

The internal question had him gripping the handle of the door harder than necessary. Of course he was. How could he not be? She was glorious. Capable. Capable of allowing him close. She was trusting, and she understood him. She made him feel other things besides self-loathing. She made him feel like he belonged. She made him _feel_. For the first time in decades, he was _happy_. Because of her. He was in love with her. It was a staggering revelation. Swallowing hard, he finally opened the door and slowly got in.

Kurt set their jackets in between them. He felt her eyes on him as he fumbled to pull his keys from his pocket. He could always feel her looking. He had always been able to sense her eyes on him, even before he had known her. "Kurt…?" She called his name, and he was amazed at how her voice echoed within him. Swallowing again, he stuck his keys in the ignition. Christ. He needed to be distracted, or else… "I'm sorry it took so long. The stalls were a mess. I spent a long time just wiping the seat down… And then I came out to see that small crowd. I just knew you must have been at the center. I had to make sure none of them were filming. A kid was, but I _accidently_ made him drop it. Good thing it didn't have a case. The screen cracked on impact, so you don't have to worry about it somehow getting back to Banshee."

He turned to her then. Alison had given an explanation as though she had needed to. Kurt supposed his silence, and his lack of response, had been a little worrying. He opened his mouth to reassure her. He hadn't meant to make her think he had been irritated by the outcome of that confrontation. "I'm going to kiss you." Instead of calm reassurance, he had blurted out his desire. Kurt scolded himself, frowning. "I mean… I want to kiss you. Can I do that?" Alison regarded him with confused, but indulgent eyes. She nodded her head. Slowly, she slid over to him, replacing the jackets with herself. She tilted her head up as his hand lightly touched her cheek. Her breath hitched, but her body visibly relaxed as she waited for the distance to cease between them.

Alison shut her eyes as Kurt moved closer. Her readiness for him made the corner of his lips tug upward as he pressed his mouth against hers. Now that he _knew_ , kissing her felt the same, and yet so much different. Even the light, feathery brush of their lips had his heart pumping blood at a faster rate. This. He could stay like this forever if she would let him. Alison parted her lips, whispering his name, and just like that, she drew him in further. Her tongue hesitantly darted out to meet his, and Kurt gladly deepened the kiss. Her fingers curled around the top of his shoulder, just as enthusiastic.

Christ. His life had certainly turned around. When he had first arrived in Banshee after so many years, he had believed it would just be more hardships. Not being able to find a job for weeks had cemented that, but then he had stumbled onto the job he had wanted most. A Banshee county deputy. And from there, luck had smiled on him. He had gained a friend in Alison Medding. Then another friend in Billy Raven. Now, a lover—someone he loved. Years ago, he wouldn't have thought it possible, but here he was. Perfectly happy.

Alison reared back, breathing heavily. Kurt opened his eyes, breaths matching hers. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she worked to compose herself. Even now, he wanted to keep kissing her. His lips found her skin. Her cheeks, underneath her chin, her neck. "Kurt…" She tilted her head back. He lightly nipped at her skin now with lips and teeth. "We-We should head ba-back," she insisted. He nodded his head in agreement, and then reluctantly pulled away from her skin.

"I want-" he began.

"I know," she stated. "Let's go."

Kurt inhaled deeply through his nose, and then nodded bowed his head. In a way, she did know, but mostly she didn't. He wanted to _make love_ to her. He wanted to tell her that he loved her. Over and over again. He wanted to make sure that she knew she was the one. But how would she take it? It hadn't even been two weeks yet. Maybe she would think all this was too soon? Pressing his lips together, Kurt started the truck. For now, this was fine. He could keep it to himself until she was ready. But from now on, it wasn't going to be just sex for him.

The drive to the hotel had been short. The walk to their hotel room had been even shorter. Kurt barely heard the click of the door shutting behind them before he was on her again. Hands cupping her cheeks, he kissed her, almost frantically. He felt her sharp exhale through her nose as she gripped the back of his shirt. Their jackets had been dropped from her hand at the clashing of their lips. Fuck. He needed to slow down. Swallowing hard, he reared back from her. As much as he wanted to proceed, he had to remember that she might not take too well with his aggressive advances.

"Is this too much? Am I-?" Alison cut him off with a sharp shake of her head, and then roughly continued the kiss. Christ. He loved her. Backing her up to the edge of the bed, Kurt lowered his hands to her sides and began lifting her shirt from the back. The heated kiss was broken, and Alison allowed him to remove her shirt. " _Christ_ …" he said out loud as the shirt fell from his hand. She dipped her head, tilting her head to the right, showing her embarrassment. She hadn't needed to be. The red bra with black lace looked good on her. Kurt swallowed, wondering if she had worn it for him.

"Wait, let me…" Alison trailed off as she slipped off her flats. She then moved to unbuttoned her jeans. The pull of her zipper seemed to echo as Kurt waited in anticipation. Finally, she pushed down her jeans, revealing matching panties. So good. Heart-stopping good. The lace clung to her curves, enhancing the swell. Her smooth brown skin looked good enough to eat. "Do you…" Uncharacteristic shyness crept in. She bit her lower lip in that enticing way. "Do you like this?" Kurt lifted her chin with his curled index finger. He wanted to make sure he saw his nod, as well as the desire in his expression. She gave a little smile, and he couldn't resist kissing her softly.

He was going to _savor_ this.

0-0

Sometime later, after their breathing had become steady, Kurt turned himself. He cradled Alison's body with his own, sliding a palm up and down her bare stomach. "You okay…?" he whispered. Her head nod was slow, but it was enough. He was glad that he hadn't been too rough. Kurt shifted his hand from her belly to her face. He tucked strains of hair behind her ear, and then moved to plant light kisses along her neck. Alison gave an appreciative hum.

"Are you okay?" she asked, softly. Her fingers lightly trailed across his shoulders, where her nails and teeth had dug deep. He would wear the marks proudly as far as he was concerned. To answer her, though, he smiled and nodded. She returned the smile, and Kurt could help but to kiss her lips. He couldn't get enough. Alison giggled against his lips as he repeatedly kissed her. It was nice having her softer side appear more around him. She giggled and teased easily more often than before, and it liked it. Alison reared back, inhaling through her nose. "Your hair," she mentioned, reaching to slide her right hand to the top of his hand. "It's out of place. Looks like you've got antennas." See? The teasing. Kurt chuckled, letting her try to smooth down his hair. "Why do you choose to keep this hairstyle?"

Kurt waited until she became satisfied of smoothing his hair back into place, and her hand fell down to rest on top of his on her belly, before he spoke up. "… Officer Miller wore his hair like this," he answered. Her expression sobered almost immediately. Kurt sighed a bit and shut his eyes, remembering the man that had been like a father to him. Alison shifted, causing him to open his eyes to watch her. She had turned on her side, facing him now. Her right hand rose, lightly rubbing at his side. It was… easier to talk about him. With her, it was always easier to talk about his alternative family. "Sometimes, I'd watch him style his hair this way. Thought he was so weird. My hair used to be longer—down to my shoulders. But I ended up cutting it. When I decided to get my life back together, I thought of him."

"You must really respect him," Alison commented. She shifted closer, moving her head onto his pillow. Laying so close, he could see the hesitation in her eyes. She bit her lower lip, obviously contemplating if she should voice her thoughts. "Since you've been back to Banshee… Have you thought about reaching out to him?" Kurt frowned then. He hadn't. He wouldn't. He had already accepted that he would never see his surrogate parents again. "Maybe you can tell him personally that you followed in his footsteps?"

"No," Kurt said.

"Maybe he'd be glad to see you—proud of what you've done," Alison suggested.

"No!" he repeated, louder than he should have. Alison flinched, but luckily, she hadn't recoiled. She pressed her lips together and dropped her gaze. "I'm sorry," Kurt whispered. "It's just… I don't deserve to see him. What I've done… I haven't done anything to make up for…" He paused as a little girl with white and green beads in her braided hair appeared in his mind. "He wouldn't want to see me after losing his daughter… because of me."

"He lost his daughter, Kurt," Alison agreed. "But after some time passed, maybe he thought… he lost a _son_ , too." That thought had _never_ crossed his mind. He would not have had the audacity to think something like that. Sifting through fond memories of the man, he caught hints that the father-son like relationship maybe hadn't been as one-sided as he first thought. His frown deepened. "Look, I'm just saying… You've accomplished so much since the last time you saw them. And he's one of your biggest influences. Maybe it would be so bad to get… closure?"

He didn't say anything in response. He couldn't. The words might have choked him. Alison nodded once, and then sighed softly. She moved again, turning her back to him. However, she hadn't attempted to leave the bed. Hesitantly, Kurt reached for her, wrapping both arms around her body and pressing his face against the back of her head. "I'm sorry," he repeated. Alison shook her head and sighed again. "I just… I don't think it's possible for me." She didn't respond to his words, which made him feel slight disappointment.

The truth…? The last rejection had run deep and scorched him like nothing else. Kurt wasn't so keen on experiencing it again. And his accomplishments…? What exactly had he accomplished that had been worth the life of Naomi? _Nothing_. There wasn't anything he could do to bring her back, but this life he had now couldn't come close to equivalent. As happy as he was, this life wasn't an accomplishment. It wouldn't be—not to Officer Miller. Not to Mrs. Miller.

Then it hit him. Hard. His life may be good now, but in the future…? His job, his friend, and the person he loved could very well become in danger simply because of his former ties. He could hope never to come across them, but they didn't deserve that. The people he had come to care for shouldn't have to make excuses, lie, or hide just because they knew him. Alison didn't deserve being driven hundreds of miles away from home just to go on a date. She didn't deserve being kept hidden in fear of retaliation. Neither she nor Billy deserved the life he would force on them simply for existing at the same time as the active Brotherhood.

So laying in the dark, holding on to Alison, Kurt made up his mind. He had initially come back to Banshee for the sole purpose of wiping out his former organization. That should not have changed. It should not have been pushed aside. He would destroy the Brotherhood, as he had set out to do. Only this time he had gained other motivations. Other parameters. He could not die. He _would not_ die. He had gained too much to live for now. And maybe… After all was said and done, maybe he could show his face to the man that had shaped his current life. Maybe.

"Alison," Kurt whispered, shifting his head to rest his cheek against hers.

"It's okay, Bunker. We don't have to talk about it," she murmured. "Let's just go to sleep."

"… Okay," he agreed. Sighing, Kurt moved his head back onto the pillow again. "What do you want to do tomorrow?"

"Ice cream…?" Alison replied. He almost chuckled at her predictable response. Of course, she would want something cold and sweet. "I can't believe that guy knocked over my Icee." Kurt actually did chuckle because of the bitter way she had spoken. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Bunker. After that, I probably just want to stay in until it's time to leave."

"Anything you want," Kurt stated. "I'll do… anything for you." Alison hummed lightly, and then settled to let sleep claim her. She was unaware of the extent of his words. Kurt shut his eyes, holding her just a bit tighter. Soon enough, she would. That was a promise.

0-0


	14. Let's Play Pretend

"Kurt… Kurt…! Kurt!"

"No, no—like this, momma! CAPTAIN~!

A seventeen year old Kurt Bunker sprang awake, feeling a weight drop down on his torso. Even though he should have expected it, he still let out a wheeze of discomfort. His reaction had only been met by cackling. Mildly annoyed, Kurt trapped the little girl in his arms and began to mercilessly tickle her. "You little _hellraiser_!" Peals of laughter were louder than his mock shout. Eventually, she managed to squirm out of his grasp and scramble off the bed.

" _Worth_ it…" she sang, smoothing out her dress. Kurt made a half attempt to swipe at her, to which she nearly twirled out of the way before scampering to her mother's side. He sighed heavily, swatting his hair from his eyes. "Momma says you have to take me to the bus stop today."

"Actually, I was asking if you can. I got called in earlier than normal." Kurt eyed the woman that stood just inside the threshold. She was already in her nurse uniform—dark blue scrubs. Her long kinky hair had been pulled into a ponytail, held out of her face by a large blue band. Kendra hadn't bothered with makeup today. Her hazel eyes were bright in amusement like her daughter's. "It'd be a big help."

"Yes, ma'am," Kurt replied. He rubbed at his face with both hands. "What time is it?"

"A little after seven," Kendra replied. She stepped closer, leaning towards him to plant a light kiss to his forehead. "Thanks, Kurt. I'm leaving now." He nodded his head, faking a grimace. Kendra gave him a knowing smile before turning around to give her daughter the same treatment. "You be good for him, baby."

"I'm _always_ good," Naomi said.

"Good at not being caught," Kurt muttered. The woman chuckled, and then took her leave, giving a small wave as she did. Moments later, he heard the front door close. She must have been in a hurry. Kurt rubbed the rest of the sleep from his eyes before focusing on the little girl that was left behind. "Get your shoes on, and then grab a pop tart for us." Naomi grinned and enthusiastically nodded her head before running off to follow his instructions. Kurt found himself snorting in amusement as he moved to climb out of bed.

Stretching, he let out a jaw-popping yawn. He headed out the door, and towards the bathroom to relieve himself. Kurt shut the bathroom door to take care of his business. Once he finished, he moved over to the sink to wash his hands. As he moved to dry his hands on the hanging towel, he caught himself in the mirror. He self-consciously rubbed his left arm. It was nearly covered in ink. Just recently, he had stopped wearing long sleeves around the house. Kendra had stopped flinching at the sight of his tattoos, so he could wear simple t-shirts to sleep now. He could get forehead kisses, just like Naomi, even without wearing long sleeves. Although he pretended to be annoyed by the gesture, he actually liked it.

Kurt lightly touched his forehead, seeing a smile form on his face. He was now at a moment where he expected the physical affection from the woman. It was her way of greeting, of saying goodbye, and showing her thanks. He couldn't get anything like it back home. "Captain…!" A whine from downstairs broke through his thoughts. Kurt shook his head, moving away from the mirror. He opened the door, shouting for her not to wake up her great grandfather. "You're the one who's shouting!"

Stifling the eye roll, Kurt made his way downstairs. He had to maneuver his way around Naomi, who had chosen to sit on the bottom step. The girl already had her green jacket on and her bright purple school bag strapped to her back. Kurt swiped at her beaded hair as he moved down the steps. She stuck her tongue out as he dropped down in front of her. Her shoes were on, but they weren't fastened. He was expecting that, anyway. Even though she knew how to do it herself, Naomi had gotten used to his willingness to tie or buckle her shoes. She expectedly held out her right foot as she nibbled on the pop-tart in her left hand.

Kurt quickly fastened both straps on her school shoes, and then stood to his full height. Naomi handed him the pop-tart in her right hand as she stood from the bottom step. He put the pastry in his mouth, and then turned to grab his jacket off the hook near the front door. "Zip up," he told the girl. Naomi nodded, finishing her small breakfast. Of course, she would be able to eat a better breakfast at school, so he wasn't worried about her having a single thing. The girl happily zipped her jacket all the way up and nearly skipped over to his side.

After shoving his arms through his own jacket, Kurt grabbed the spare keys from the bowl on the counter. Once he had them, he opened the door, letting Naomi head out first. With the pop-tart in his mouth, he shut the door behind him and locked it. The girl hummed a light tune, slipping her free hand into Kurt's. Trying not to smile, he turned towards the bright morning sun. Together, the two began their walk to the bus stop.

Naomi continued to hum as she swung their connected hands back and forth. It was her thing. Being in her own little world while squeezing his hand. Usually, she wouldn't have food in her mouth, so instead of humming, she would belt out some inane song she had learned in school. Kurt yawned slowly before taking another bite of his half of the pop-tart. By the time they reached the bus stop, both of them had finished their light breakfast. "Captain…" Instead of a song, his nickname came from her mouth. She had stilled their hands. Mildly surprised, Kurt looked down at her. Her hazel eyes were round and inquisitive despite the morning sun. "How come you don't go to school?"

He took a deep breath before answering. "School's not for everyone," he replied. For him, it was just another burden. Too many faces. Too many judgmental stares. Kurt pressed his lips into a thin line. His left arm suddenly felt itchy, but he refrained from scratching. "I'm not smart like other kids."

"Poppa says you're a different kind of smart—says your talents are hands on, but I don't really know what that means. I think it was a compliment, though," Naomi stated. Kurt's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "But I think you're smart like other kids, too! You help with my homework."

"… Your homework's easy. Besides, I've done it before," Kurt told her. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the bus approaching. "You be good in school, so you don't have to be hands on like me."

"Kay!" Naomi explained with an enthusiastic nod. Kurt held back a grin as the school bus came to a stop. Good thing they had gotten here when they did. Naomi was the only one for this certain stop. The doors opened, waiting for her to board, but the little girl tugged on his hand. Shaking his head, Kurt dropped down to one knee so that she could wrap her arms around his neck. His arms moved to return the hug. "You'll be here to pick me up?"

"Yeah," Kurt replied, releasing her. He rose, watching the little girl positively beam at his answer. She had asked the same question every school day before she and her mother had left the house. She had smiled the same way, too. Waving animatedly, Naomi stepped away from him and got on the bus. Kurt returned the wave more calmly than the little girl before putting his hand in his pocket. He watched the bus drive away, unable to help the grin forming on his face. She was too cute.

Shaking his head in amusement, he began the walk back to the house. His second home, to be honest. These days, he hardly ever ventured back to the Bunker residence. The only reason he had chosen to go back had been to check on his brother. Calvin usually hung out with the Brotherhood when he wasn't going to school, so he had hardly went home either. There had been times where both brothers and father had been under the same roof, but those times were becoming rare. And usually, their dad would drink himself into a stupor. Couldn't hit them anymore, so that's the only thing he could do now. Calvin and Kurt would use the time to talk about stupid things. Or talk about making a difference once they were old enough to—when they were seen as men among the Brotherhood. Still, it would always be brothers before Brotherhood, they had agreed on that after Calvin's first rally. It would stay that way no matter what positions they got.

Kurt cleared his throat as he stepped up onto the front porch. He took out the keys to unlock the door. All was quiet inside the house. Maybe Khenan wasn't up yet. Usually, he was. Kurt shut the door behind him, and then dropped the spare keys in the bowl. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It looked like he had to go soon, but he had time to make breakfast for the old man. He was actually getting better at cooking, but Kendra had made it clear that her grandfather was only supposed to have fruits for breakfast. There were complaints every morning. Normally, it had been the arguing that would wake him up.

Sighing, Kurt made his way through the house to get to the kitchen. Last time he checked, there were still a few apples on the counter. Yup. Green apples on the counter. He grabbed a knife from a drawer, a plate from an upper cabinet, and then he began cutting the apple into slices. Once done, he tossed the knife into the sink, and then picked up the plate. He walked through the house until he came across the living room. Khenan normally slept in here. Kendra had told him that in recent years, his legs hadn't worked all that well, so it had gotten impossible for him to move up and down the stairs. It had actually been her grandfather's room that he stayed in when he slept over. It had also been the room where he had been treated after _that_ night.

As he thought, the old man still slept in the reclining chair. His body was covered up to his neck by a blanket. "I don't want that," he said. Kurt stopped himself smirking. The old man hadn't even opened his eyes. Not that he needed to. He was blind, but had the hearing of a canine.

"You have to eat breakfast," Kurt told him. Khenan scoffed and opened unseeing eyes. Once, his eyes might have been a deep brown, but the blindness had clouded over the iris and pupil. "If you eat this now, when I come back, I'll make you some bacon. We don't have to tell Mrs. Miller."

"Kurt, my boy, you're one of the good ones," Khenan complimented. The old man lowered the blanket with both hands, and reached out to receive the plate of apple slices. Kurt moved closer so that he could take the plate. However, his hand move pass the plate and his fingers wrapped around Kurt's wrist. Furrowing his brow, he realized that the old man's grip was surprising strong for someone with his ailing body. "Or _are_ you?"

"I don't know what you mean, sir," Kurt said, confused.

"You have tattoos on this arm, don't you, boy?"

Kurt flinched, and then managed to pull his arm free from the old man. Pursing his lips, het set the plate down on the coffee table. He swallowed hard, wondering how Khenan had found out. "I… I'm not going to do nothing," he said. Kurt still wore his jacket, but his inked skin suddenly itched and he wanted nothing more than to hide his arm behind his back. The old man relaxed, and simply rolled his eyes.

"You've been coming here for months now," Khenan stated. "I'm not a fool. If you were a danger to my family, then you wouldn't be allowed here." Kurt clenched his jaw. The thought of not being allowed made his chest hurt somehow. "I heard them talking yesterday night—Kendra and her husband—they're concerned about what you're doing. Going back and forth between here and… there." Kurt lowered his head, not knowing what to feel. "You must know that it won't last. You're still a child, so you're getting away with it, but… eventually, you will have to choose."

"It-It's f-f-fine," he replied. Damn. The stutter had come back. Kurt swallowed hard and curled his fists. He hadn't stuttered in years. Ever since Tank. It made him feel weak. "As long as-"

"As long as," Khenan interrupted. "There is no as long as. You are going to have to choose, Kurt. A life of hate. Or a life of love. There will be no in between. Not for this." Kurt swallowed again, mouth suddenly dry. "Now, they— _we_ care about you. We want what's best for you. Getting ink all over your skin and displaying how much you hate is _not_ what's best for you. You are _not_ a hateful person, and you shouldn't be in that world."

"… It's the only world… that I know—that'll accept me," Kurt insisted.

"Let me tell you something." The old man clasped his fingers together, laying his hands in his lap. " _Wisdom comes only through suffering_. Aeschylus, the founder of Greek tragedy, said that. Are you trying to gain wisdom?"

"I'm not suffering."

"For _now_ ," Khenan said. "I hope that the day never comes where you have to." Kurt clenched his jaw again, unable to find words to respond with. "You're seventeen with a birthday around the corner. It's time to start thinking about your future. Kendra and her husband won't say anything to you, but you do need to make a choice. Soon. Us or them. This group you're apart of won't let you have both. And soon, neither will we. We can't have Naomi growing up, thinking your tattoos are… approachable. _You_ are safe to her, but those men won't be."

"I'll… I'll take care of it. I-I-I just need time," Kurt whispered.

"You have time. As long as you're a child," Khenan said. The old man had made it obvious how much time he had. "Now go do whatever it is you do when you leave in the mornings, but I'm expecting that bacon."

"… Yes, sir," Kurt murmured. Stiffly, he made his out of the living room. His entire body was tense. The old man had never… talked to him that way before. It hadn't been a hostile conversation, but… Kurt frowned and rubbed at his right arm. Could he really give up one or the other? What he was doing now wasn't hurting anyone, right? He could stay this way. No one would get hurt as long as… as long as they didn't know about each other. He could have both. He wanted both. He needed both. With that thought in mind, Kurt took a deep calming breath, and then headed for the front door.

0-0

If he had known then what he knew now, he would have made a decision that same day.

Now, sixteen years later, Kurt Bunker stood in front of a patch of land. The house had never been rebuilt since the fire. He stared, never thinking he would be able to come back to this place. Honestly, he would rather not have. But… There were no headstones for the people that had lost their lives in the fire. Their ashes had been taken outside of Banshee. This was the only place he could try to pay his respects to. He had been standing on the sidewalk for nearly ten minutes, clutching a bouquet of white flowers in his hands. It didn't hurt quite as much as he expected it to—being here, but there was still a hesitance to move forward and actually place the flowers.

Kurt shut his eyes for a moment, squeezing the tied stems harder than before. He drew in a deep breath to calm his nerves. This would be the second step. He had to do this. It wouldn't be okay if he continued on without coming here. So steeling himself, Kurt took a step forward. Then another. And another. Until he was standing in the middle of where a home used to be. He breathed out harshly as memories flooded his mind. Somehow, he could smell the charred remains of the house. He could feel the sharp sting of the slap from Kendra. He could hear the last words he had heard from Officer Miller. He could see their backs as they turned away from him for the final time.

Removing from hand from the bouquet of flowers, Kurt rubbed at his forehead. He hadn't come here for this—to feel sorry for himself. For several moments, he focused on breathing. One by one, the phantom feelings vanished, and his mind shifted back to reality. Of course, it didn't say there for long. Just went to Naomi and her great grandfather. Out of the whole family, they had been the ones he had spent the most time with. The husband and wife had usually been working. A nurse and an officer—of course they would have sporadic hours. A student and a retired old man would have a set schedule. Kurt hadn't grieved them at the time. Not really. Not until Florida. Then he had shut them from his mind altogether.

"No more running," he whispered to the empty plot of land. "I'm going to make this right." Kurt crouched down, and then carefully laid down the flowers. He had already initiated making it right before coming here. That reunion hadn't gone has planned. He had only wanted information. He had only wanted to know if Calvin had still been in charge. A lot could change in five years, after all. But apparently not Calvin's determination. He was still the leader of the Brotherhood.

Because of that, this plan he had come up with would work. The message would be sent by Jasper and Bryce. They would, once they recovered, go running off to the leader to announce his impending arrival. It was a long shot, he knew, but maybe he could talk some sense into Calvin like he should have done years ago. Maybe that guilt had been a part of the reason he hadn't tried anything for four months. Maybe if he hadn't taken his brother to that rally… No. No more maybes. Calvin could either accept the warning or not. Other way, it was time to stop running. He needed to do this. Everything about the Brotherhood needed to disappear from Banshee. The group. The ideology. The hate. It had to go. Otherwise, the same thing that had happened to the Millers could happen to anyone. And no matter how his brother responded to the declaration that he would give, he wouldn't allow the same thing to occur anymore.

In the end, Kurt would have the power to change things.

He was committed now. He had made the vow a month ago, but now there was truly no going back. It had been one of the reasons he had gone to Jasper and Bryce first. Kurt couldn't step off course or get distracted again. Everything was set in motion now. The hard part would be telling Alison. She had been argumentative about him clashing with the Brotherhood when they hadn't been friends. Now that they were more, her reaction would probably be worse. But she needed to know. Alison didn't deserve to be kept in the dark while he gambled with his life. Sure, the odds were in his favor, but it would still be a gamble.

Kurt straightened his legs, rising from the crouched position. When he truly deserved it, he would be back, and give his respects properly. Once he had something Naomi and Khenan would be proud of, he would be back. But now his priority had to be on the present. Kurt swallowed, and then turned away from the flowers he had placed. He walked down the slight hill, back to the sidewalk. As he moved towards the police SUV, he pulled his phone from the pocket of his uniform pants. He flipped it open and began dialing the number. The line rang a few times, and then went to voicemail.

That was expected, really. Although Kurt was in the middle of his shift, Alison's work day was nearing its end. More than likely, she was buried in paperwork. She complained about it enough during her lunch break. Kurt felt himself smiling, thinking back to their conversation. She really didn't like her Assistant District Attorney. She blamed copious amount of paperwork on him every time he saw her. Waiting for the beep, he opened his mouth to give the message.

"Hey, Alison," Kurt began. "I know you're busy right now, but I wanted to tell you I'll be over after my shift ends." Normally, he wouldn't tell her. Somewhere along the way, they both had come to expect him to show up every night. No matter their schedule, they always slept in the same bed together. Alison would normally be the one to tell him that she would be over to his apartment. If she didn't, they both assumed he would come to her house instead. It worked for them. "I… I have to tell you something. I'll see you later."

0-0

When Kurt had found Alison, she had been curled up asleep on her bed. He had let himself in with the spare key she had given him a few weeks back. Seeing her sleeping like that, he hadn't wanted to disturb her. Although, it had been strange that he hadn't received a call or a text all day after leaving that voicemail. He had thought she would be worried about the vague message, not wanting to wait for an explanation. But she had been sleeping so peacefully. So instead of waking her, Kurt had decided to hop in the shower. He hadn't changed out of his police uniform, and come straight over. Some things had been bought specifically for him when he would stay over. Like soap, toothbrush, shampoo, and such. Same with his apartment. Things for her had been bought and placed in his bathroom.

Kurt shut off the flow of water. He stood there for a moment, wiping the excess liquid from his face. He might have been stalling. Alison always woke up when he slid into bed with her. It was getting closer and closer to the time he would have to tell her. Sighing, Kurt opened the glass door and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a dark green towel from the metal rod attached to the wall, and began drying himself. Once done, he wrapped the towel around his lower body, and then opened the door and headed out into the hallway. The bedroom was a short walk away.

He expected to quietly find spare clothes for him to change into, but upon opening the door to the bedroom, he found that Alison hadn't still been in bed. Blinking twice, examined the bed closely. The spread had been flung back from where Alison had laid. He probably woke her up while he had been in the shower. Quickly, he searched for a pair of boxers through her drawer. He also pulled out a white t-shirt for him. Her t-shirts were the same drawer, but they usually had some kind of _Marvel_ symbol on them, so the distinction between their shirts were easy. Kurt let the towel slip from his waist before putting on the t-shirt and boxers.

Kurt left the bedroom in search of Alison. Now that he was paying attention, most of the lights were still off. But there was a light coming from the other side of the house. He made his way to the kitchen. Stopping just before the threshold, he watched Alison Medding. She stood over the counter next to the refrigerator. He couldn't tell what she was doing, but obviously, she was concentrating on whatever task had gotten her attention. Feeling a smile cross his face, Kurt stepped forward, moving until he was right behind her. She wore her just a black tank top and dark blue yoga pants—her usual attire for bed. "Hey," he greeted, sliding his palms along her sides.

Alison didn't flinch at his touch. Not anymore. Her body had… conditioned to his presence enough to where even a sudden touch wouldn't cause her body to jerk in response. It was nice, knowing that, even on a tiny scale, she was so comfortable with him. Kurt moved his hands downward to her hips and rested his chin on top of her shoulder, pressing his body close to hers. He couldn't get enough of touching her. "Hey," she returned, not stopping her task. Alison was in the midst of spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread. Kurt eyed the containers of her snack, surprised to see apricot marmalade. Months ago, she had teased him for having marmalade instead of jelly. She had tasted it and had not liked the texture—had said it felt wrong.

"Did I wake you?" Kurt asked.

"No," Alison replied, setting the butter knife down on the paper towel she was using as a makeshift plate. "My stomach actually. Got up because I was hungry. Heard you in the shower on the way here." She lifted the slice of bread with peanut butter and placed it on top of the slice with marmalade. "I guess I didn't eat that much for dinner." She hummed lightly, hands finding his. Her fingers were a bit sticky. "This would be my third sandwich."

"What'd you eat?" Kurt asked, curious.

"Baked chicken with alfredo," Alison answered with a shrug. Kurt's eyebrows scrunched together. That type of sauce was usually filling… "But anyway, I tried waiting for you, but I was tired. I fell asleep as soon as I got home from work today. Woke up and ate, and then went back to sleep."

"You've been tired a lot lately," Kurt commented.

"Well, summer's almost over. It's probably just the weather changing," Alison said, turning around to face him, which caused him to lift his head from her shoulder. She smiled at him, and Kurt couldn't help the way his expression tried to mirror hers. "Hey," she repeated. He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her lips. Kurt repeated the greeting against her mouth, feeling his own smile widening. Slowly, she reared back. The tingles from the kiss lingered. As did the taste of peanut butter. Christ. He didn't think there was ever going to be a day where he got tired of doing this. "How was your day?" Alison asked.

"Mostly the same," he said even as the unconscious bodies of Jasper and Bryce entered his mind. "How about you?"

"Same," she replied. Then she turned back around to grab the sandwich. Without worrying about the items she had left behind, she walked away, heading out of the kitchen. Kurt shook his head, and then began picking up the abandoned things. First, he grabbed the used knife, tossing it in the sink, and then he threw away the paper towel. Secondly, he closed the bread up, twisted the lids back in place, and then moved to return them. Unlike the bread and the peanut butter, he held on to the marmalade just as he was about to set it in the refrigerator. It was probably nothing, but he couldn't help to think how weird it was for Alison to have it. Maybe it grew on her? Shrugging, Kurt set the glass jar next to the milk, and then shut the refrigerator door.

He left the kitchen, following the lights that had been turned on. Alison had made her way through the house, stopping in the living room to sit on the couch. Kurt sat down on the middle cushion. Alison almost immediately shifted to rest her legs in his lap. She watched him as she ate her sandwich. "You seem tense," she murmured. She scooted closer. "What's wrong?" Kurt shook his head, hand sliding back and forth along her outer thigh. "You spent awhile in the shower… And you've got a nasty bruise on your jaw. Get into an altercation today?"

"… Yeah," he admitted. His hand stilled, but his thumb still stroked her skin. "Just two guys got a little upset with my appearance." Technically, it hadn't been a lie, but Kurt now realized that his reluctance in telling Alison about his plan had been bigger than he had thought. "Don't worry about it." Alison finished off her sandwich and scooted even closer until she sat on his lap, legs stretched out on the cushion. She lifted her hand, the tips of her finger lightly tracing the mark on his jaw. "It was a lucky shot."

"Lucky shot…?" Alison repeated, dropping her hand from his face. "Does this lucky shot have anything to do with that voicemail you left me?" Kurt lowered his head, feeling caught. She sighed softly. "Are you… Are you going to be in trouble? Did you rough up a suspect too much? Am I going to be hearing about this in court later on?"

"No, it's not like that," Kurt insisted. "Guys like these wouldn't come forward no matter how hard they got beat." Alison's expression became somewhat alarmed. "Not that I… did that." She frowned and narrowed her eyes. "It's fine," he told her, handing sliding up and down her back. He waited until she had relaxed against him again before continuing. "I'll handle it if anything happens in retaliation. I don't want to worry you."

"If you didn't want to worry me, then why did you leave me that _worrying_ voicemail?" Alison retorted.

"… I wanted to talk to you after it happened. Hearing your voice makes me feel better," Kurt said. "The way they looked at me… It brought back memories. If I didn't have these-" He stopped, exhaling through his nose. "I wouldn't have to deal with it. I wouldn't have to-" He stopped again, pursing his lips. He wouldn't have to be the one to do what needed to be done. Truthfully, he wouldn't have to worry about the Brotherhood at all. Alison's expression softened, lips forming an 'o' shape. Again, technically, it hadn't been a lie. It just hadn't been the whole truth. Facing Jasper and Bryce again… They had been friends, or something close to it—bonded by the Brotherhood and maybe a few other shared interests. Those two were the sort that egged him on. They had been Kurt's hype men, to be honest, and for a time, they had been the distractions he had needed. He had let them drive the downward spiral after the Millers. He had fed off their excitement, and the hatred had seemed real. Not that he would ever use that as an excuse for all the shit he had done.

Alison lightly cupped his cheek, causing his gaze to focus on her. "It's going to take time," she whispered. "You've only been back four months. Not everyone will be receptive to you in that short of time. They don't understand. I certainly didn't at first. They'll come around with time. Then you'll only have to worry about being punched because of your profession and not the tattoos." Her joke had caused a smile. Alison dropped her hand and rested her head against his chest. Her fingers trailed up and down his right arm. Sometimes, she touched him like the ink wasn't there. Other times, she traced the patterns, quiet in her musings. "I've been… looking into tattoo removal procedures. They're not exactly sure fire. Some of them make it worse."

"I know," Kurt said. He had wanted to get rid of the ink as soon as he could, but other than not having the funds, there were also the negative effects of the process. Like the ink could be removed, but an imprint would remain. He had tried looking into covering up the ink with more ink, but he didn't actually want more. And it was expensive. Creams were, in the long run, dangerous. And the process would take too long. The ink would fade slowly.

"What I'm trying to say is… Maybe we should stop thinking about you not having these," Alison continued. "With time, people will get used to them. Like I did. So let's not turn this ink into scars. Endure it, and things will get better. And I think you'll stop having those type of memories."

"Alison…" Christ, he loved this woman. So many times, he had to stop himself from saying it. "Thank you. I have been enduring this whole time, but I think I've gotten better at controlling. I know that I don't have to endure all the time anymore." She smiled at him then. She was the reason he hadn't needed to all the time. Kurt leaned forward, kissing her softly. He could feel her smile now as she kissed him back. Privately, he still told her how much he loved her. He would mouth it against her skin almost every night or morning. "This is why I wanted to talk to you. But… we don't have to talk about this right now. You're tired."

"I'm not that tired. I just woke up," Alison stated.

"… You're about to be."

She chuckled, and then shifted her position on top of him so that she straddled him. Her thighs squeezed his sides as her arms wrapped around his neck. "You have gotten too comfortable with saying things like that," Alison said. Truthfully, she liked jokes of that nature. Her eyes crinkled and lit up with amusement. He never would have thought she enjoyed innuendos. It probably had something to do with her online gaming. She had developed a somewhat juvenile sense of humor because of multiplayer. It was just another side that he had gotten to experience. The past month had been eye opening, and Kurt enjoyed every minute of it. He moved underneath her as he placed his hands on her hips, fingers squeezing just a bit. Alison bit down on her lower lip and tilted her head to the side.

"You're the one who spoils me," Kurt stated. That was the truth, despite his teasing tone. Alison had not only become comfortable enough to let him touch without flinching, but she had also become confident with initiation and… control. It was another side that he enjoyed a lot. "I wouldn't mind some spoiling tonight." Alison shook her head, and then leaned forward, hands moving to settle on his shoulders.

"I just bet," she replied, easing in. "I'll spoil you all night long." Grinning, Kurt finished closing the space between, capturing her lips with his. He would… tell her the whole truth eventually. _Soon_ , he vowed in thought. But tonight, he just wanted to worship her, and let her spoil him.

0-0

Kurt breathed out, staring at the house that belonged to his brother. It had been more than five years. Calvin had moved residence somewhere in that timeframe. Bigger house. Better neighborhood. Kurt glanced down at the grass in front of him. There was worn soccer ball. He dropped down to pick it up, examining the faded black. This would explain the relocation then. His brother used to love soccer and basketball, but this particular ball couldn't have been that old. A child. His brother was a father. He hadn't been when Kurt had left all those years ago. Christ, he was an uncle... He almost wished that the unexpected fact changed things, but it didn't.

"Hello, Kurt." The voice caught his attention, causing him to look up. Dressed in a suit and tie, looking the part of a business man, stood his younger brother. He looked different. He had grown up, clearly. From the haircut to his attire, the Calvin before him had been a contrast to the one he had left behind. There were no visible tattoos for one. Calvin had never been like the others. He had been smart about a lot of things. Determined, too. It hadn't been a wonder how he had climbed the ranks in the Brotherhood so quickly. Gritting his teeth, Kurt acknowledged his estranged brother with a nod of his head. "It's been a long time. Welcome home."

Calvin gestured for him to approach. Kurt pressed his lips together, dropping the ball from his hands. Sighing softly, he walked forward. His brother turned to open the door. Calvin headed in, holding the door for him. Kurt shut the door behind him, and then looked around. As far as he could see, it was a pretty nice set up. Almost nothing like the apartment his brother and long-time girlfriend shared five years ago. Now, they were married, in a house, and with a kid. It appeared so normal. Obviously, Calvin had stopped mixing the Brotherhood with home life. Maybe this was a sign…? Maybe good things had happened with his brother, too? Maybe this reunion wouldn't turn out so bad.

"You know…" Calvin began from his place in the kitchen. Kurt slowly made his way over, spying the audio baby monitor on the counter. He idly wondered the age of his nephew as he picked up the audio monitor. Judging from the toys scattered around, maybe two to four years old. Wow. So young. "When you disappeared that night, I thought you just needed to clear your head for a minute. But _this_ -" Calvin breathed out, causing Kurt to shift his attention away from the device. His brother appeared incredulous as he stared at him. "-this is a lot to take in." Damn it. His reaction spoke volumes.

"I'm sure," Kurt replied. "But it was time to come home." He sat the monitor back down, realization slowly forming within him. He should not have gotten his hopes up. At all. Five years had been a long time. But unlike Kurt, Calving hadn't gotten any other outside influence. Only the indoctrination, and because of that… He never should have left without his brother. Swallowing, Kurt turned his back to Calvin, feeling the disappointment flare. No, he told himself. He had to try. It was his brother, for Christ's sakes. And his brother had a family. He just had to appeal to his bloodline.

"You left us in the lurch that night, Kurt," Calvin said. Kurt shut his eyes for a moment, silently taking a deep breath. He hated recalling that night, but at least, he had gotten to the point where the memory of the fire didn't cause a panic attack. "There were some who wanted to hunt you down—make you pay. But I defended you. I lied to the Brotherhood for _you_." Kurt turned back around, slowly walking over to his brother. "And now you come back here, unannounced, and you do what you did to Jasper and Bryce…" Honestly, as in control as he had felt during that confrontation two days ago, it had still felt _good_. "You're making it very hard to keep you safe."

Wow. The tables had certainly turned. Keep you safe, he had said. Kurt had used to tell him that, and now Calvin thought he could do the same since he was in charge now. Mildly amused, Kurt had to repress a smirk. " _Am_ I?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows. Safe? That train had left the station about a month ago. Now that he had enacted his plan, safe wasn't a luxury he could afford. Still, his brother had actively been trying to. That was good news. It meant that the foundation of his plan would work, despite the opposing sides.

Picking up on the amusement, Calvin's eye twitched as he looked at Kurt. That hadn't changed. Whenever big brother teased little brother, especially in front of their peers, his eye would twitch in annoyance. Only Kurt had ever seen it. Now, it seemed that Calvin had gotten better at hiding it, though. He looked away for a moment.

"Still," he said, seemingly ignoring the mock. He took a deep breath before returning his gaze. "You're my blood. And like you always said: brothers before Brotherhood, right? So, big brother, I'm gonna give you a chance to do the right thing. You take off this uniform and you come back to your real family." The amusement faded. Kurt had been counting on Calvin remembering that. He just wished his brother wouldn't have used it with like he had. The intent had been pretty clear. Calvin held his hand out. "I'll smooth things over. I'll get you back in the way got me in back in the day."

Kurt eyed the hand. Although it was clear how this reunion would turn out, he still had to try. The older brother gripped the younger's forearm, yanking him forward. "I _am_ going to do the right thing," he began. Calvin nodded his head, mind probably already going through how he would get his older brother back in the fray. "I'm going to shut down the Brotherhood." Calvin tried to move away, but Kurt held on tightly, pulling his brother even closer. He had to get his point across. For the sake of trying for his blood. " _All_ of it," he emphasized. "You be smart, Calvin. You have a wife and a little boy to raise. Walk away."

"Walk away…? I'm not the dumb little shit I was when you saved me from dad, took me to my first rally," Calvin said. Kurt clenched his teeth hard. He had taken Calvin to that rally because he had been the age where their dad thought it would be okay to start hitting him. He had taken his little brother to that rally to keep him safe. He had trusted that Calvin would be taken care of while he had gone home—or, at least, tried to go home. Calvin's first rally, at thirteen, had been Kurt's first crack at the illusion, at seventeen. "There is no walking away from it. I _am_ the Brotherhood."

Kurt's grip on his brother's arm relaxed. This was it. There was no getting through to him. Maybe he would have kept trying a few years ago, but Kurt now saw there would be no point. _I am the Brotherhood_ …? Christ. Calvin had been left alone too long. Kurt should have eventually taken him to the Millers. He should have gotten the same chance, the same experience, with that family, so he could have known what a _real family_ had been like. Instead, all he had had had been the Brotherhood. And Kurt knew he was to blame for that. "… You should take care of our real family—your wife and your son," he told him.

"Don't you come in here and tell me to take care of my family, you fucking traitor!" Calvin retorted. The bite in his words were bitter. So, as he had thought, there would be no getting through to him. His brother would have to be taken out, along with the Brotherhood. Kurt frowned, and then turned to head for the door. "We will fucking bury you. You hear me?" That disappointed feeling sprang up again. With his hand on the doorknob, Kurt faced Calvin again. "You better watch your back, big brother." They had been macho threats. Kurt knew his brother wouldn't do anything drastic or dangerous until things escalated. However, by that time, it would be too late. In the end, the Brotherhood would be destroyed.

"Goodbye, Calvin," Kurt said. He hesitated for a moment longer, and then he opened the door and walked out. He had tried. But now he had to focus on the next step. After getting the confirmation that his brother still somewhat cared, the next step would be to tell Alison. He would have to do it tonight because there was no going back now that he had announced his intention to the leader of the Brotherhood. Despite it being Calvin, he had to move things along quickly.

0-0

"What's wrong? You seem agitated."

"It's Kurt," Calvin replied. "He showed up. In a _cop_ uniform."

"… What did he say?"

"He told me to walk away from the Brotherhood—that he's going to shut it down." Calvin chuckled without humor. "He told me to take care of my real family."

"What did you do?"

"He's full of shit. He's not gonna do anything."

"He's _already_ hurt Jasper and Bryce. You need to do something, Calvin."

"He's my _brother_."

"A brother who abandoned you—abandoned _us_ —and left you to clean up his mess. He's a brother you haven't seen in going on _six_ years, and now he comes to your house and threatens you. What type of brother is that?" Again, Calvin fell silent. "Kurt can't just come back and try to uproot your position. You are in charge, and if you let him do what he did without consequence, your position will change. You have to make sure that everyone knows this is not acceptable."

"I can't just kill him."

"Of course not. He's still your blood. But… He can't get away with what he's done. Maybe Kurt won't do anything, but you can't let him go on thinking he _can_. He's your blood, yes, but he also turned his back on you."

Calvin stared at his wife, the mother of his child, realizing that she was right. She tended to be right most of the time. Kurt's interference could undermine his authority within the Brotherhood. He originally was going to send a few people just to scare his brother into backing off—as a precaution. But that would be too lenient. His leadership would be questioned. He would be seen as weak. The life he built, the safety of his family, would crumble. Calvin would need to do more than just scare him. "Okay," he said. "I'll handle it." Maggie Bunker smiled at him, lighting up her entire face. When she smiled at him, it was the best feeling in the world. He felt that he could do anything when she smiled.

"I know you will, honey," she said. She uncrossed her arms and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around him, kissing him softly on the cheek. Calvin shut his eyes, returning the embrace. "You're going to do the right thing for your real family."

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Calvin squeezed Maggie tighter, unaware of the calculating look his wife had on her face.

0-0

Alison slowly backed out of the driveway, eyes focused outside her rear window. She was in a fairly decent mood, considering the long work week. She was very much looking forward to the weekend. Not that she had any plans, other than to sleep. She might even stay in bed for most of that time. Kurt's bed was more comfortable than hers, which was weird because she had plush and his was more firm. She was pretty sure he wouldn't mind if she commandeered his bed for a couple days. Her lips twitched upward in a smile as she thought about it. Being encased in the warmth and scent of his covers—she couldn't think of anything better. Besides food in bed, but that would leave crumbs.

Chuckling to herself, Alison almost didn't catch the ringing of her cell phone. She had been driving for over an hour now, and it had been the first time her phone rang. She recognized the ringtone and furrowed her brow. Her hand reached for her cell phone, which laid on the passenger seat. Answering the call, she pressed the device to her ear. It wasn't like her best friend to call so late. Not only that, but Lena tended to text. "Hello…?" Alison greeted.

"… Oh, wow, I was not expecting you to answer. Isn't it like close to midnight across the pond?" Lena asked. During the course of the summer, Lena had been making trips over to London. Alison had texted her a lot, but they rarely talked on the phone anymore.

"After midnight, actually," she replied. "I just left your place. Plus, my sleep patterns have changed."

"Why?" Lena questioned. Alison pressed her lips together as she drove down the street. As much as they talked, she had yet to tell her best friend about Kurt Bunker. For obvious reasons, of course. Now, the circumstances were different. She bit down her lower lip. The itch to tell her friend had gotten stronger ever since last month. "Ali…? What's wrong? Someone like you changing their schedule is unheard of... Why have your sleep patterns _changed_?"

"… I met someone," she blurted. A sharp intake of air had been heard, but other than that, Lena hadn't replied. "We've… know each other for over four months, but we got together recently—last month. I wanted to tell you, but-" A shriek entered her ear. Alison grimaced and pulled the cell phone from the side of her head. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she waited until the screaming stopped. "Was that necessary?"

"Yes!" Lena screeched. "I thought you were asexual this whole time!"

"Asexual people can be in a romantic relationship, Lena," Alison stated, not bothering to stop the eye roll, though her friend couldn't see. "And… I am not asexual." Another shriek entered her ear. This time, Alison chose not to pull the phone away. "Lena, please stop doing that."

"Alison! Alison! Alison! This is huge! For so long, you've ignored and swatted at potential suitors—both boys and girls—and now you've dropped a bomb on me? Who is this _magnificent_ person that got through your frigid outer shell? When can I meet them? Tell me _everything_."

"… He's name is Kurt," Alison answered. A certain delight filled her. It had always been Lena who had stories to share, and crushes she went on and on about. Alison had always been the one to sit through her dreamy sighs and mindless rants. Relationship-wise, she never thought she would experience it. Of course, she couldn't tell her everything, not yet.

"He…? Damn it." Alison laughed at her friend's disappointed tone. "Okay, so how'd you meet him?"

Images of their initial conversations came to mind. He had said his disclaimer. She had interrupted him and had claimed to know everything about him. It had been the first time she had seen his puppy eyes. Even then, the air had crackled between them in the bullet ridden CADI. It may have just been the adrenaline of spray of bullets, but even then, her heart had stuttered inside her chest. "We met through work," Alison stated. "I couldn't take my eyes off him." That had been true. She hadn't wanted him too close. Likewise, Kurt had kept glancing her way whenever they were in a room together. She never asked him why. "He looked at me, too."

"This sounds juicy! What happened then?"

Alison licked her lips, recalling the foolish action that led to her almost dying. Just for a moment, her body trembled. Sometimes, she could still feel her airway being cut off, especially when she thought about it. "I got into a spot of trouble. I was fine, but… he was the only one that asked if I was okay. I was… intrigued by him, so I helped him a little." Killing that Redbone had probably been the reason Kurt hadn't stayed away from her. "After that… he asked me to dinner."

"He got that far, did he? You usually shoot guys down before they can work up the courage to ask you out," Lena remarked.

"Yeah, but he was persistent, and I agreed. We talked for a while, and he impressed me," Alison continued. The corners of her lips lifted. She could hear her own voice smile as she remembered the way Kurt had beat the shit out of that monster that had wanted to… not spare her. His actions had been nice. Looking back on it now, she realized that she had felt satisfaction. Kurt had defended her. "I decided that I wanted to keep seeing him. It sounds weird, but I purposely left my cell phone with him so that I'd have an excuse to see him again."

"That is weird."

"I didn't know how else to-" Lena interrupted with a giggle. "Shut up. After that, we kept meeting. As friends. And then I got drunk. In my drunken state, I… wanted more than just his friendship, and he didn't resist." Lena shrieked again, but it was more muffled like she was holding a hand over her mouth. Alison rolled her eyes again. "There were… complications to our relationship after that, but in the end, we both decided to move forward. He makes me feel safe. I trust him enough to move forward, and now…" She took a deep breath. "I love him."

"Wow…! Love him? Actual love? Wow, Alison! I've missed everything!" Lena exclaimed, feigning tears. "I'm so proud of you. My baby has grown up."

"Shut up," Alison repeated without bite.

"Have you told him?"

"… No," she stated, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Up ahead, she could make out Kurt's apartment complex. "It's only been a month. I had no idea what the timeframe is for falling in love, but it feels so soon. I-I don't want to—I mean, what if he-"

"Love isn't on a timestamp, Alison. It happens when it happens," Lena told her. "You should tell him. Soon. _I_ should have been told this a long time ago, by the way. Don't think I'm not mad you've been withholding this."

"Sorry, Kurt's not exactly… social?" Alison murmured. She parked alongside his truck. Her eyebrow raised at the sight of it. Truthfully, she hadn't been expecting him to be here just yet. "Look, I've got to go, but I promise you that once you come back, I will introduce you to him. And tell you more about him in person." A heavy sigh came from her mouth. "His physical appearance may be alarming, but he's a really great guy, and I know you guys will get along after we move past that."

"You're saying that like he's ugly. Oh, _sweetie_ , you can do so much better-"

"Stop that," Alison cut in. "I'll talk to you later."

"Wait, wait, wait! I called you for a reason!" Lena protested. "I was going to leave a voicemail, but since I have you now, guess I'll tell you." They had gotten side-tracked, hadn't they? Alison pulled the key from the ignition, waiting to hear the reason for the call. "I need you to housesit a little longer than what we talked about."

"You're not coming back next week?" Alison questioned. "Why?"

"It's Jenna's grandmother—she doesn't have much time left. Jenna doesn't want to leave," Lena explained.

"I understand. You want to stay with her," Alison said. "It's fine. I can housesit awhile longer. Take as much time as you need."

"Thanks. I really appreciate this, and I promise I won't forget your souvenirs this time."

"That's what you said the last couple of times," Alison stated, chuckle in her voice. "But don't worry about it. You have enough to deal with. Just know that your apartment will be looked after." Lena thanked her again, said her goodbyes, and then disconnected. A sigh left her mouth. Between work, Kurt, and Lena's trips 'across the pond,' it felt like Alison hadn't seen her best friend in forever. She knew it couldn't be helped, but she missed her. Another sigh escaped before Alison moved to get out of her vehicle. It was just a couple more weeks, and then Lena would be back. She could wait.

Alison took a deep breath, and then shut the car door. Tucking her cell phone under her arm, she headed towards the green door, already sorting through keys to find the right one. She held the key with her thumb and finger just as she stopped in front of the door. The spare key had been given to her about two weeks ago. She had been so enthused that she had almost burst into literal tears. She had tried to hide it as best she could, but she had definitely felt emotional about it. Kurt had told her she could come and go as she pleased, and she had done so with gusto if she were all the way honest. A lot of the new additions to his apartment had been because of her.

Unlocking the door, Alison pushed and entered the apartment. "Kurt…!" she called out as she shut the door behind her. There was no response as she deposited her set of keys, and cell phone, on the table cabinet. "Kurt…?" She removed her large cardigan and placed it on the wall mounted coat rack, opposite of the table cabinet. Then she maneuvered her feet from her gym shoes. Wiggling her toes, she paused. Still no answer. Frowning, Alison made her way through his apartment. He wasn't sitting on the couch. She peeked her head around the corner to see that he wasn't in the kitchen either. Furrowing her brow, she moved further through the apartment. Most of the lights were out, but she could see that the bathroom light was on even though the door was shut. Kurt normally slept with all the lights off, but Alison had a preference for, at least, one light. They had compromised on the bathroom. The light to the bedroom was also on.

It was a little odd that he hadn't come to greet her. Yes, she had arrived earlier than normal, but Kurt should have, at least, responded to her arrival by now. Not hearing the shower running, Alison turned left to go into the bedroom. She found him, sitting on the edge of his bed, book in hand. He wore a simple t-shirt and boxer briefs. That wasn't surprising. She had caught him reading several times. What had been surprising was the earphones. Alison crossed her arms, not attempting to suppress a smile. So that's where her mp3 player had gone. Apparently, she had left it here. She hadn't been worried about the device since it had been awhile since she had used it. Kurt must have found it tonight.

Alison moved forward, hand reaching out. Her fingers lightly trailed across his shoulder towards his neck. Kurt turned his head, not quite jerking at her touch. "Alison…!" he said, louder than necessary. Shaking her head, she yanked the right earphone out. "You're early," he stated, standing up, grin on his face. Alison returned the grin just as Kurt tilted his head to kiss her, left hand sliding down her right side to rest on her hip. A short one in greeting. Then a longer one just because. He must have taken a shower before divulging in his meditative reading. She could still smell the scent of his body wash. Alison reared back, taking the earphones and unclipping the mp3 player from the neckline of his white t-shirt.

"I was out already," she replied, turning the music off. She wrapped the cord around the device. She moved around him, heading to the left side of the bed to set her mp3 player down next to the cordless phone, which was docked in the charger. Alison turned to face him, "Decided to come here. Why are you early? It's like an hour before you should be here."

"It was a pretty slow night, so the Sheriff said I could go early," Kurt replied, laying down the book he had been reading. "You hungry?"

"… No, not right now," Alison replied. "I came over to get in your bed, actually." With a chuckle, she climbed on top. "I've been thinking about this bed all day." Kurt mirrored her chuckle as she laid down and got comfortable on her side. He didn't join her, though. In fact, he looked hesitant. The way he shifted his weight from foot to foot was noticeable. She raised a curious brow before lifting herself into a sitting position. "Something on your mind?"

"Something happened today," Kurt began, seemingly nervous. Alison furrowed her brow, and then nodded her head, prompting him to continue. He clenched his jaw, and then sighed through his nose. "I wanted to tell you as soon as it happened, but..."

"Kurt, what is it? Is it bad?"

"No, no, it's… good."

"Okay then. What happened?"

"A few guys showed up while I was at lunch with Deputy Lotus at the diner," Kurt stated. "They were… guys I used to run with. They weren't exactly friends, but… Otto took offense." Alison frowned. Used to run with, he had said. That meant… Members of the Brotherhood had sought him out. Jesus Christ. She supposed that this would happen eventually, but… "They stood outside, waiting for me to come out of the diner." His lips twitched, and Alison recognized it as mirth. "I made them wait. I made sure they saw me making them wait." She let a chuckle slip, and Kurt's eyes twinkled in response. "Afterwards, I walked out before Deputy Lotus. Otto tried to get a rise out of me, but I wouldn't take the bait. Deputy Lotus told them to clear out, and they looked like they were going to. But then… Otto decided to push me as we were walking pass."

"What did you do?" Alison questioned.

Kurt opened and closed his mouth several times, and it appeared as though he might have been trying to remain serious, but there were inklings of a grin beginning to form. "Nothing," he finally managed with a shake of his head. His eyes focused on her, bright and enthused. "Alison, I wanted to… I wanted to hit him. I wanted to beat the crap outta him, but… I didn't. He pushed me hard, but he's the one that fell over. I was solid as a rock. I realized at that moment that… I'm not weak anymore. Seeing them, interacting with them… I didn't let it control me." He moved, sitting down beside Alison. His hand reached for hers, fingers clasping. "I have power. My _own_ power."

"Kurt." Alison felt her own smile growing because that was good. That was _great_. Before she knew it, her arms were around him, and he was hugging her back, mouth pressed against the side of her neck. Not that she hadn't already believed that he had become a man, but now Kurt had become of aware of it. He was no longer that cross between man and monster. Then a thought struck her. "Wait…" she murmured as she reared back. "Why now…? You've been back for months. Why would they choose now to show up? You're not exactly subtle. They must have heard about you beforehand, right?"

"They… usually stick to their own district. They wouldn't come so close to a police station, especially in numbers," Kurt told her after dropping his arms from around her body. "But…" He hesitated. Alison's insides clenched with apprehension. "I went to them first. I announced my return to the leader of the Brotherhood." It was almost like she had sensed what his next words would be. The words had still made her lungs stutter. "Before, I said I would destroy the Brotherhood, and I'm going to."

"Are you serious?!" Alison blurted, standing up from the bed. "You went _to_ them? You actually-" A choked gasp left her as realization formed. "Two days ago—that bruise?"

"… Jasper and Bryce," Kurt replied. His hands clenched into fist against the top of his thighs. "They were former associates."

"Jesus Christ, Bunker!" She may have raised her voice because he flinched. "You're still planning on going against the Brotherhood by yourself? You're going to-to _die_!"

"No," he disagreed with a shake of his head. "No, I'm not trying to get as many of them as I can now. I'm going to shut it _all_ down. I have a plan now." Alison aggressively crossed her arms, far from convinced. Kurt stood from the bed, and attempted to approach her. However, Alison could feel her face harden at his proximity. He wisely halted his movements. "Listen," he continued softly. "A month ago, me, the Sheriff, and the Mayor took down an entire base of trained military men—just the three of us. Months before that, that night at the CADI, we went against Chayton and his small army. Now, the Brotherhood is organized, but they're untrained and they don't have access to guns. They can easily be taken care of with just a group of us… with the Sheriff backing us up, we won't lose."

Alison squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth. He had sounded so damn confident. The hero worship he felt for the man known as Lucas Hood wasn't helping either. She had half a mind to tell Kurt his idol was a thief. But that would be petty. The heart of the matter was that Kurt intended to risk his life again, and she was not okay with that. She hadn't been okay with it when she had first learned of his reason for coming back to Banshee. This… This felt worse. Like a punch to the gut. After the things they had already gone through, he just wanted to rush back into the fray, risking everything? "You can't possibly think it's going to be that easy," Alison snapped, voice laced with irritation.

"No, but I have an advantage. My brother, Calvin—he's in charged, and because of that, I can do what I need to do without getting too bad of a backlash," Kurt told her. "All I have to do is provoke him enough, and he'll-"

"Stop _talking_ , Bunker!" Alison cut in, sharply slicing at the space between them with her arm. "I'm still the District Attorney. I _cannot_ hear this plan of yours." Stiffly, Kurt nodded his head. Alison took a moment to breathe deeply, gaze on the ceiling. Then she returned her attention back to him. "Advantage or not, this is still dangerous. Do you _have_ to do this? Things are fine right now, aren't they? Why ruin what we have now by going after them?" The hard tone had faded, and the end of her questions had been a mere whisper.

"… Because it's not good enough for you," Kurt replied. "It's not right that I have to treat you like I'm ashamed. It's not fair that you need to be a secret just to keep you _safe_. Alison, as long as the Brotherhood has influence, you and Billy will be in danger. If anyone _ever_ found out about you, and something happened, I-" He seemed to choke on his own words. "-They have to disappear. Not only for you, but this whole town. What happened to you and the Millers, it shouldn't happen to anyone else. So, yeah, I _have_ to do this. I'm the only one who can really do this." Alison bit her lower lip, dipping her chin and staring at the floor. She sighed heavily. "I know you're upset, but-"

"I'm not upset, Kurt. I'm _terrified_ that someone I-" She stopped herself, swallowing the rest of those those words. _Someone I love_ , she wanted to say, but wouldn't. Her tongue felt heavy, and for a seemingly long while, she couldn't talk. She pressed her lips together, forcing her thoughts to gather. "I… I know it's selfish, but I don't want you to do this," Alison said. She met his gaze, and he almost appeared resigned. "… But I'm not going to stop you. You're right." At her admission, Kurt perked up, hopeful. "Jesus Christ, I know you're right." She sighed heavily. "The justice system takes too long, and an organization like this wouldn't stop. I've done my hardest to put as many of them away as I possibly could, but the procedures never really put a dent in their numbers. I realized a long time ago that if something drastic doesn't happen, they'll just grow and be allowed to do whatever they want to whoever they want. I understand why they need to be gone…"

"But…?" Kurt prompted, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"But… nothing," Alison told him. Honestly, she didn't like it, but that was only because her mind wouldn't let her stop thinking about the negatives. Still, a few positives trickled through, and she saw the benefits of what he intended to do. It was… worthy, and despite the selfishness that twisted her on the inside, she realized that she appreciated his thoughts for her and his hometown. Besides, nothing was going to deter him away from this. She could tell that he was determined. Because of that, affection for him coursed through her. "I… I'm going to support you. I just… I just need you to be careful."

"I will," Kurt insisted. Cautiously, he stepped forward, and then wrapped his arms around her. Alison relaxed in his embrace, content by his familiar warmth. "I _am_. I-" He stopped short, squeezing her just a bit tighter. "… I won't go in, thinking death is my only way out. There's too much that I have to come back to." Slowly, Alison lifted her arms to return the hug. Her fingers gripped the back of his shirt. In the coming days, she just knew that her nerves would be wired, almost constantly worried about the repercussions of Kurt's actions, but… she would try to convince herself that this plan—whatever it could be—was needed. Almost reluctantly, Kurt's arms fell away from her. "It's gonna be fine," he said.

"Kurt…" she murmured his name as her arms slipped away. Alison lowered her gaze to the floor again. His reassurance wouldn't stop her from worrying. There would be a lot riding on his decision to go after the Brotherhood. A lot of backlash, too, no matter how the situation turned out. Kurt had implied maximum damage. Good or bad, this storm would come, and it was highly doubtful that things would be 'fine' in the aftermath. Kurt tilted his head to meet her gaze, but Alison stubbornly refused to look at him at the moment.

"Hey," he said, curled index finger lifting her chin. His thumb lightly caressed under her lower lip. Finally, she shifted her gaze, locking eyes with his. "I know you're worried, but I'm glad you're supporting me." He gave her a quick peck to her lips, and then lifted to kiss her forehead. "Thank you, Alison." She slowly nodded her head. "You… just wanna go to bed now?"

"Yeah," she replied with a shrug. Honestly, she felt pretty drained from that conversation. "Yeah… Let's just sleep." Alison moved around him, going for the bed. With a sigh, she laid down and immediately shut her eyes. She heard Kurt shuffle a bit before his footsteps went towards the door. The creak of the door swinging shut caused her to open her eyes. He had turned off the light, too. She saw the shadow of his silhouette as he made his way back over to the bed.

With a grunt, Kurt removed his shirt, tossing it on the floor, and then climbed into bed with her. His arms immediately sought her out and pulled her body closer to his. He kissed her shoulder blade as his right hand slipped under the front of her tank top. His mouth opened and closed against her skin. Kurt usually did that—had been doing it for about a month now—and it was a comfort. She could feel herself relaxing, both inside and out, as his fingers lightly traced circles against her stomach.

"… In West Philadelphia, born and raised… on the playground is where I spent most of my days…" At first, she was confused, and then Alison snorted in amusement. Unable to help herself, she snickered. "Knew I'd get a laugh," Kurt said, sounding smug. "Chillin' out, maxin' relaxin' all cool and I was shooting some b-ball outside of the school," he continued the familiar rap, causing snickers to turn into full blow laughter.

"Wait, wait…! Let me get my cell phone so I can record you!" Alison said. Grinning, she turned to face him, hands sliding up his chest. Kurt chuckled and shook his head, holding her tighter. "I'll get it eventually."

"Maybe," Kurt retorted. She could hear the smirk in his voice. His hand found her side, and slide up and down, palm against her skin, apparently, not caring much for the tank top. "Are you okay? I mean, _really_ okay with this?"

"I won't lie—I'm not completely okay with this," Alison said. "I need to… process, but I meant it what I said. I'll support you." How could she not support the man she loved, doing something like this? Sure, it was going to be a difficult endeavor, but he was right. Ultimately, it would make a lot of people safe. "Maybe later, I can listen to your plan without worrying about our job titles."

"It'll basically be a case of self-defense," he assured. "With help, I can do this."

"I said _later_ , Bunker."

"Sorry."

"… Goodnight, Kurt." _I love you_ , she couldn't bring herself to say.

"Goodnight, Alison." He pressed another kiss to the middle of her forehead, mouth opening and closing as routine.

As they laid their heads to rest, neither knew of the storm closing in.

Faster than anticipated.

0-0


	15. Summer's Over For The Both Of Us

Alison slowly opened her eyes, and was greeted by the darkness of the room. She blinked, waiting for her sight to adjust. The blinds were shut, but the moon's light proved to be enough for her to make out more than just shadows. She lifted her head and turned her focus to the man beside her. Her shifting had not awakened him. Kurt continued to sleep on his side with the fingers of his right hand splayed against her lower back. His right leg laid in between hers. Admittedly, waking up like this had taken some getting used to. Most of her life, she hadn't had to share her bed with anyone, and now practically every night she had someone touching her so casually intimate.

A smile tugged at her lips as she continued observing him. The little bit of light reflected off the liquid that had formed on his skin. Sweat—it littered his skin, but Kurt slept, unbothered by the heat. To Alison, the heat had been a downside of sleeping over. No matter how many times Kurt had complained, the landlord hadn't taken care of the faulty air condition. Randomly, it would just stop circulating in the middle of the night, and the fan above them never really helped. That was the reason, most of the time, they had taken to sleeping in her bed instead of his. If only Alison hadn't had a fondness for his bed as of late.

Taking in a soft breath, she slipped her left hand from under the pillow. Her fingertips trailed down his arm, taking drops of perspiration with them. She didn't really mind the sweat. Kurt, so deep in sleep, was unaware of her feather light touch. After another moment, Alison took her hand back and shifted her head, gaze focusing on the cordless phone. The glowing display told her she had only slept for about two hours. She huffed lightly, dropping her head back onto the pillow. She laid there for a few moments, silently debating if she wanted to get up. However, her bladder won the argument. Another huff left her before she began to crawl out of bed.

Despite the slight noise that had come from removing herself from the comforts of bed, Kurt went on sleeping. Alison yawned as she made her across the room. She opened the door, nearly shuffling towards the bathroom. She covered another yawn with the back of her hand. After shutting the door behind her, she hurriedly went about her business. Despite the heat of the apartment, the tiled floor of the bathroom was still cold. Having her bare feet against the floor, courtesy of her socks coming off, wasn't exactly a comfortable feeling. Honestly, she should probably stop wearing socks to bed. They always managed to come off, anyway.

Humming lightly, Alison shut off the flow of water from the sink's faucet. She dried her hands, and then tossed the paper towel into the nearby small trashcan—both items she had convinced Kurt to get. The liquid soap had been bought, too. Alison bit her lower lip as she stared at her reflection. Her fingers gripped the rim of the circular sink. Suddenly thoughts of Kurt filled her head. It had only been a few short hours ago that she had learned that the man she loved intended to go against his former organization. Never mind her bladder, her mind had been restless as well. It hadn't been a wonder why she had only slept for two hours.

Alison exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes narrowing. Despite her telling Kurt that she couldn't know what his plans were, she wanted to know as much as possible. She needed to know everything, really. There was a scratching at her brain that wouldn't settled until she did. That's how it usually went with cases. This would be no different, she believed. As soon as Kurt woke up, during the later morning hours, they would talk this through. Especially about the current leader of the Brotherhood. Leader… She had met one of those before. The man was a distant memory, but if Calvin was anything like him… well, it was worrisome. But Kurt trusted his brother—at least, he trusted that his brother's actions wouldn't necessarily cause too much harm. Admittedly, the Brotherhood had been quiet for a few years now. Maybe Calvin was mild in comparison, after all…?

She suddenly heard her cell phone going off. Alison blinked, and then frowned. Who was calling her at three in the morning? Someone with a lot of audacity most likely. Sighing, Alison turned away from the mirror, and then opened the bathroom door. The ringing became louder as she moved down the hallway towards the front door. The ringtone was the phone's default, so whoever it could be hadn't been assigned in her contacts. She ran her fingers through her hair with her right hand and grabbed the cell phone with her left. Her face hardened into a scowl because she recognized the number. _This motherfucker_ …! Then she winced because wrong word choice.

Huffing, she slid her finger against the phone's screen to answer the call. "Have you lost your mind?" Alison questioned in a whisper. This asshole had been calling her for weeks, trying to arrange some type of meeting. No matter how many times she had turned him down, or ignored his phone calls, he would always end up getting the courage to call again. Twice a week, she had to deal with this—it had been a wonder how he had gotten her personal cell phone number in the first place—but this had been the first time he had called so late. "I can get you for harassment. You know that, right?"

"If you were going to, you would have done so already," he replied, tone sounding casual and smug at the same time. Alison felt her scowl deepen. "I imagine you have already thought of the potential drawbacks of bringing your justice system into this. What would happen if the citizens of our lovely town find out their District Attorney's mother was just as guilty as those she put away? Of course, that fact may never come to light in court, but it would be too much of a risk to gamble, I assume?"

Alison sucked in a harsh breath, lowering her arm and tilting her chin up towards the ceiling. She really wanted to hit him. Just one solid punch, and she would be satisfied. Maybe. Clenching her jaw, she looked down the hallway. Although Kurt was the heaviest sleeper she knew, she didn't want him waking up and overhearing. This continued harassment was something he hadn't been aware of, and honestly, Alison wanted to keep it that way. She knew Kurt wouldn't stop until this problem went away. And now that he had revealed his steadfast intention against the Brotherhood, she was even less inclined to tell him. No. It would be better to deal with this issue by herself.

Biting her lower lip, she made a grab for her cardigan while simultaneously shoving her feet into her shoes. It was prickly without socks, but she figured she wouldn't be in her shoes for long. Alison slipped into the cardigan, and then held the phone back up to her ear. She grabbed her set of keys, and then opened the door and left the apartment. "What do you want, Proctor?" she asked. "It's the middle of the damn night."

"I already told you what I want," he replied. "Now that we both know of our connection, we should meet and go over what that means." Alison could only sigh heavily in response. "Truthfully, I expected to get your voicemail. Perhaps you would be more susceptible to a recorded message."

"I hear holding your breath is bad for you," she retorted.

" _Ah_ , that clever tongue—your mother had the same rapier wit." Alison shook her head, fingers gripping the cell phone harder than necessary. If she hadn't hated Proctor before, she damn sure did now. But… That hatred was based on a bias of assumptions. For all his talk, the business man had never admitted to anything—nothing to incriminate him of wrongdoing, at least. So while it may be true that he and her mother had been cohorts, the only thing that he had confessed to had been how they founded _Proctor Meats_.

If she were all the way honest with herself, it was the principle of the thing, wasn't it? He was a known criminal that couldn't be proven guilty, and she was a prosecutor. Being on opposing sides was the obvious answer. But removing the labels, Alison could come to terms that he had been someone close to her mother. He had helped her survive in this brutal world. She sighed heavily. "… If I agree to meet you, would you stop with the phone calls? I mean, it's three in the morning. Getting a little bit ridiculous, don't you think?"

"Only determination worked for your mother. It stands to reason that it would work for the daughter as well," Proctor said.

Alison rolled her eyes. If anyone asked her, she would blame drowsiness. "The only reason I'm agreeing to this is because of my mother," she told him. "I want to know the truth. No implications or cryptic phrases. I want to know."

"Even if the truth is not what you want to hear? Even if… our talk must go off the record?" Proctor questioned. "Would you consider meeting me with no strings attached?"

Alison bit her lip, pondering. Admittedly, it would be an opportunity to get something viable from him. Even if their titles were to be removed, the fact remained the same that Proctor was still a bad man. Her sense of justice couldn't be removed. Still… It wasn't as though she had to be the one to put him away. All things considered, she could ignore her job title in favor of something personal. "No strings," she repeated. "I'll meet with you as myself. How's Sunday?"

"Sunday's perfect. We can meet some place public if you'd like."

"I know where you live," Alison stated, flatly. She shook her head, already regretting her decision to meet with him. Why would he possibly think she wanted anyone else to know about this? "Expect me some time after noon. And before you get any shady ideas, I'll tell a few people where I'm going on Sunday, so just in case I'm not back at a certain time…" She trailing off, leaving him to fill in the blanks.

"Your mistrust wounds me, Alison," Proctor said. "I promised your mother that I'll make sure no harm comes to you. I meant it. Any means necessary."

"Save the smooth talk for Sunday, Proctor," she retorted. "And just so you know, this doesn't mean we're on the way to a strong relationship. I still don't like you." Pressing her lips together, she pulled her cell phone from her ear, and then tapped the red icon on her screen to end the call. It had been a hasty movement on her part. Really, most of her had wanted to take back the agreement to meet. It had never been a good idea to be in a room with Kai Proctor. Alison sighed heavily again, slipping her phone into the pocket of her cardigan. More than likely, she would be kicking herself over this little excursion later on, but for now, it was a chance for her to know another side of her mother—maybe give her some understanding why her mother had ran with someone like the most notorious criminal in Banshee.

Alison crossed her arms and began walking back the way she had come. She had gone further than she had expected to. She had only intended to pace on the sidewalk, but ended up just walking. Pressing her lips together, she thought of who she would tell. Gordon, definitely. He would ask questions, but she was certain she could get by being vague. Lena still had her own problems, so she wouldn't be telling her. The Sheriff, maybe…? Risky. Based on their history, Lucas Hood would want her to go for ulterior motives.

One day, Proctor would go down, but Sunday wouldn't be the beginning of that. Alison would go for her mother—nothing else. And then, after that… She would have to see where things went. Honestly, she had gone back and forth with this issue during her time as a prosecutor. Proctor had always been such an elusive bastard. Gordon had almost quit because of it. Once this meeting was done, she would decide what she intended to do in regards to the man that had known a different side of her mother. But until then, she would have to wait and see. Alison anticipated thinking long and hard during the coming weeks. For now, she just wanted much needed relaxation for most of the weekend.

0-0

Calvin had gone on a lot of 'runs' in the past, but this would be the first one he felt hesitant about. Not even his first had been as unsettling. Calvin shut his eyes and released a silent heavy sigh. But this needed to be done. With his fingers clasped hard together, he sat in the backseat of a raggedy dark vehicle, on the way to the address he had received. His brother had been back in town for _months_. Hiding out in a motel like apartment so that no one would know about his return. And then all of a sudden, he wrecks his attempts at laying low. Threatens to destroy he used to believe in? Kurt had turned into a fool, and this was his just rewards. He should have never come back to Banshee.

The car came to a stop, causing Calvin to open his eyes. Otto, who had been more than willing to come along, had parked a little ways off from the apartment building. He breathed in deeply, and then moved to get out the car, grabbing the tool that would put a stop to his brother's inane intention against the Brotherhood. Otto wanted blood, but he had been convinced that fire was just as bad, maybe worse. But at least, Kurt would survive. Clenching his jaw, Calvin followed the two subordinates towards the green door of his brother's apartment.

Of course, the front door was locked, but he knew that the side door wouldn't be. The front door to these types of apartments locked automatically, but not any other door. And Kurt never locked his doors. In a town like this, most citizens kept their doors unlocked. Made it real easy to just walk in, get the job done, and walk out. Numerous times, unlocked doors worked in their favor. The three men climbed over the wooden fence. Calvin watched Otto open the glass door and slip inside. The large blinds made noise, but he wasn't worried about alerting their target. Kurt had always been a heavy sleeper. Even if they had to break in, his brother would go on dreaming.

Still, they walked as quietly as possible through the apartment, searching for the bedroom. There was a light on in what seemed to a bathroom. Calvin snuck a peek as the other two went into the opposite room. He didn't find Kurt, but he did notice the toilet seat was down. Furrowing his brow, he stared longer than necessary. Then his eyes glanced at the sink. Two toothbrushes. Blue and green. Huh. Kurt was living with someone. That tidbit hadn't been disclosed to him. Calvin narrowed his eyes as he turned and headed into the bedroom. Despite what he saw, Kurt was in bed by himself. Hm. Maybe it was just an old toothbrush.

Standing on opposites of the bed, the two subordinates looked Calvin's way, awaiting the go ahead. He stood a short distance away from the foot of the bed, closer to the window. This was it. There would be no going back after this. Only one way a dog fight ends… So Calvin would have to stop it before it began. This was the only way, he told himself. Kurt had made himself a target, so… this was the only way the little brother could keep his big brother safe. No one would think to go after him after this. Calvin gripped the tool harder, moving it behind his back, before he dipped his chin, giving the signal.

The two immediately grabbed on to Kurt's arms, jolting him awake. Despite being a heavy sleeper, his brother had always woken up if it was an aggressive touch or sharp attempt. Something they both got because of their old man, really. Calvin watched his brother struggle underneath the strength of the two men, but with their combined effort, they were able keep him pinned to the bed. Realizing his situation, Kurt turned his eyes to the foot of the bed, causing Calvin to step forward.

Panic, he had expected. Followed closely by false bravado like an animal backed into a corner. Calvin had not expected his older brother to show fear. Kurt's entire body had gone completely rigid as realization kicked in. Then he tried more furiously to escape from the hands that held him down. The movement did him no good, but his eyes, so full of fear, darted around as though frantically searching for something. No weapon would have gotten him out, though. Calvin tilted his head, faintly wondering when the man he had looked up to turned into such a pussy. The night of that fire…? Had that been the turning point? It didn't matter now, though. Kurt was still his brother, and… he had to protect him from his own stupidity. This was the only way.

"I'm disappointed in you, Kurt," Calvin told him. "But the choice is yours to make." He held up the blow torch, eyeing it before turning his attention back to his brother. "If you're gonna wear that cop uniform, you can't wear mine." He pulled the trigger, causing the precise flame to appear. The increased struggling from Kurt was ignored in favor of moving forward. This was the only way, Calvin told himself again as he kneeled on the bed, pressing his hand against Kurt's chest. The only way… Steeling himself and shutting off his emotions, he tilted the flame down towards skin. The only way, Calvin told himself as the flame pierced its target, immediately scarring the large tattoo. The only way, he thought as the sizzling sound enter entered his ears. Still, no matter his convincing…

Calvin would hear his brother's blood-curdling screams for a long time afterwards.

0-0

As she approached the apartment, Alison pulled the set of keys from her pocket. The jangle of keys entered her eyes just as the screech of tires did. She jerked her head up because the sound had startled her. In the dead of the night, there was almost no sounds—no artificial, anyway. Frowning, she watched a vehicle speed down the road. Then shook her head and continued on. Probably just some teenagers out joyriding. It was the start of the weekend. Shaking her head, Alison veered off the sidewalk and headed in a diagonal line towards her car.

She yawned as her fingers found the right key. Oh, good. The night air and that little walk had made her tired. She felt like sleeping for a good ten hours now. She unlocked the door to the apartment and stepped inside. Her nostrils flare as her sense was nearly bombarded with an unfamiliar scent. Cringing, she pulled the key from the lock, and then shut the door behind her. Alison set her keys and cell phone on the table cabinet, looking down the short hallway. The kitchen light wasn't on… She shrugged off her cardigan and kicked off her shoes. Maybe Kurt had forgotten about a pot of coffee he had made? They had had a pretty distracting conversation before going to sleep, after all. After hanging up her cardigan, she made her way to the kitchen.

Pressing her lips together, she flipped on the light, eyes already focused on where the coffee maker's place on the counter. The pot was empty. Alison headed over to the counter, eyeing the container. It was clean, too… Frowning, she tilted her head a bit, looking to see if the machine had been left on. It had not. The switch indicated that it was powered off. The brush of cool air suddenly caught her attention, causing her to turn her gaze to the right. The large vertical blinds swayed. "Oh…" Maybe the smell had come from outside. Alison walked over to the side door, pushing a few of the blinds away. As expected, the door had been partially opened, allowing the night wind to come through.

Kurt must have left it open before she had come over. With a sigh, Alison shut the sliding door, and then flipped the latch to lock it. With any luck, the smell would go away. She would definitely be turning the fan on the highest setting, though, and keeping the door to the bedroom open. Groaning, Alison turned away from the door, letting the blinds fall back into place, and then headed back to the kitchen's threshold. Her hand pawed at the light switch for a few seconds before actually finding it and turning the light off. Yawning wide, Alison walked down the hallway. As she moved, she realized that the unfamiliar smell had gotten stronger. Unfamiliar had become unpleasant.

Jesus Christ. Maybe it was the ventilation. The closer she got to the bedroom, where most of the vents were, the more foul the stench became. Alison didn't think she would be able to sleep with that smell invading her nostrils. "Kurt…!" she called out, even though the deep sleeper probably hadn't heard. "I think we need to go to my house tonight!" she continued, rounding the corner and into his room. She came to a halt just inside, surprised to see Kurt covered by the sheets. Had he woken up just to cover himself? Shaking her head, Alison turned on the light. Then with a huff on her lips, she moved around the bed to her side. He, of course, hadn't been roused by the sound. Alison leaned forward, knee pressing into the empty side of the bed. Her hand reached for his partially exposed shoulder. "I'll leave without you if you don't wake up," she playfully threatened as she gave him a slight shaking.

Normally, the method of waking him would work. This time, nothing. Tilting her head to the side, Alison called his name again. Then she drew back the sheet that covered his body. Before the sheet had fallen away, it had suddenly clicked in her brain that the smell had gotten overwhelmingly worse—concentrated to this spot. So when she saw the nasty mark on Kurt's chest, she lurched back, gagging on a scream. It was blistered. Peeling. Smelled wretched. There was swelling across his chest, marring the skin into ugly pink and red leather.

Alison clamped a hand over her mouth as the stinging in her eyes became apparent. Suddenly, she wasn't in a bedroom. Suddenly, she was outside, sixteen, watching two monsters viciously beat down her father. She stood, clutching at her chest as the memories flooded her mind, rooting her to the spot. Watching her father beg, watching him bleed… Hearing gleeful laughter from the thugs who had so brutally tortured before turning malevolent eyes on her. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that hadn't stopped the images of her helpless and bleeding father rapidly switching back and forth with Kurt's unmoving scorched body. It was too much. Happening over and over again. Reliving that single moment of helplessness. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. Not again. Not again. Not again.

A soft groan managed to break through the hysteria. Alison flinched, and then cracked her eyes open. No… No, she wasn't… She wasn't a child, crippled in fear. She couldn't afford to be that right now. With a jerk forward, she snapped back to the reality of the situation. Kurt needed her. Swallowing bile, she focused on the angry patch of skin. He had been burned, she realized. Calling out his name, she rushed back over to the bed. Her voice had cracked, and Alison became vaguely aware that her throat was raw like she had been screaming. She crawled on the bed, lifting Kurt's upper body. Carefully, she maneuvered herself behind him. Making sure to avoid the burn, she made him sit upright. Another groan escaped him, but there was no other response.

Alison blindly reached for the cordless phone. It was only then that she realized she had been shaking. Breathing hard, she squeezed her eyes shut again and clutched the phone in her hand. She willed a semblance of levelheadedness. Despite the panic and distress, she knew she needed to be calm. But willing herself to calm down did not stop her finger from trembling as she dialed three numbers. "Jesus Christ… Bunker… Kurt, _please_ stay with me…" Her voice shook just as much. She barely heard the ringing, but finally a female operator picked up the line, asking for the emergency. "I need the paramedics! Now! _Um_ … H-He's burned! He's burned really bad, and _uh_ —his chest… I-I-I need _help_! Please!"

From there, the conversation blurred into babbling. Hopefully, she had given enough information, but her mind had drifted away. It was a strange, yet not entirely unfamiliar feeling. She was numb—like everything had just shut down, but at the same time, she was hyper aware of touch. Alison could feel herself rocking back and forth, fingertips against Kurt's neck. She could feel his faint pulse. Erratic and slow. She concentrated on that, and stilled every time there was too long of a time between beats. The operator continued speaking, asking her questions in an attempt to keep her on the line. But she couldn't focus on that. The phone pressed hard against her temple as the tears ran down her cheeks. A mantra fell from her lips, accompanying the sniffles in the quiet room. She could feel herself whispering over and over again.

Stay with me…

Stay with me…

Stay with me…

Alison Medding cried until she heard the sirens.

0-0

Billy Raven hadn't known what to expect when his wife had slapped at his chest in order for him to answer his ringing cell phone at nearly four in morning, but it certainly hadn't been rushing out of the house to get to the hospital. That call had jarred all the signs of lethargy because apparently, his partner had landed himself in the operating room—critical condition. Not a lot of information had been given over the phone, so even now as Billy powerwalked to one of the hospital's entrances, he could hear his heart ringing in his ears.

Quickly, he found a nurse's station and asked for the whereabouts of Kurt Bunker. He was still in surgery, and the most that they told him had been that Kurt had been brought in for severe burns, borderline third degree. The nurse told him that the doctor would be able to provide more information once Kurt's condition stabilized. For now, he would have to wait to hear anything more. Billy sighed heavily as he walked towards the waiting room. Could this have anything to do with what happened during Kurt's lunch break?

He had brushed it off, not thinking too much of it because Kurt had handled the confrontation well. Even Brock had been impressed by it. Had those three goons managed to find his apartment? How? Billy should have paid more attention. Kurt had never been proficient at storytelling, but right now those three were the only viable leads in this, and he should have paid attention to see if details had been given. Now, the only thing he could do was wait even though he wanted to start investigating right away.

Billy ran his fingers through his hair. Right. He should call the Sheriff. Hurriedly, he reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out his cell phone. While he had to wait, Lucas and Brock were still on duty. They could start by going to the apartment and seeing if any evidence had been left behind… Just as he was about to dial out, Billy noticed that he wasn't the only one in the enclosed waiting room. There was another person—a woman. Dressed in casual wear, she sat in a chair closest to the corner. With her head bowed, fingers clasped together, and her elbows pressed against her knees, she shook enough that it was noticeable.

Not too uncommon in a hospital, but curiosity sparked. Billy slowly approached her because she seemed familiar despite not seeing her face. She must have heard his footsteps because she went still before slowly lifting her head. Dark brown eyes stared up at him, the whites agitated with red. He recognized her as Alison Medding, the District Attorney of Banshee. He had only met her once a few months back. But that had been a crazy night. She hadn't stepped a foot in the CADI after that. She sniffled once, and then stood up. "Billy," she greeted, obviously recognizing him, too, but to actually call him by his first name had been a bit baffling. Her lips pursed, and Billy saw a certain guilt in her eyes. He could recognize it as a mild form of survivor's remorse... Alison folded her arms over her chest, frowning. "I don't… I still don't know his condition, but _um_ …" She sniffled again, lowering her eyes to the floor. "T-The burn was… on his chest. I-I-I don't know how deep it was, but I'm pretty sure they weren't third degree because it wasn't—it wasn't charred or black, so maybe it's not as bad as…"

Alison kept talking, Billy's brain had short circuited and had stopped processing her words. Under normal circumstances, he would have followed along, but now it felt like his mind was conflicting with itself. In his life, there were few times he had gotten confused. This was another one of those times because what the District Attorney had said had implied something that _couldn't_ have been possible. Half his brain had already reached that impossible conclusion, but the other half swam in denial. "Wait…!" Billy nearly exclaimed, raising his hands. "Who are you talking about?"

"… They didn't tell you when they called? Kurt—he was… He was attacked," Alison stated. "I should have been there…! I was only gone for-" She was the woman with the cell phone. Alison Medding, District Attorney, someone that the Sheriff—and Brock—described as a hard-ass, was _the woman with the cell phone_. Billy had never been a particularly vulgar type of person, but-

" _Fuck_ me!" he squealed, unable to contain his shock at the revelation. All this time…? Wow. He would have _never_ guessed. For obvious reasons. If he were honest, he had pictured the woman with the cell phone as a blonde. Pale skin with dark ink. Not the same ink, but they had to have _some_ type of foundation—some type of understanding or common ground—for their relationship's start, right? This woman in front of him, who Kurt obviously loved, was a far cry from Billy's original image. Alison's mouth snapped shut, and she furrowed her eyebrows. Billy cleared his throat, feeling heat rise to his face. He shook his head, holding up a pacifying hand. "No, sorry, ignore that." The District Attorney showed a frown, but didn't comment. Billy cleared his throat again, dropping his hand to his side. "Walk me through this. Help me understand what happened. From the beginning. You two were at his apartment?"

Alison released a long, shuddering breath as she shut her eyes. Billy, sympathizing, guided her back to take a seat. From the look of her, it might have been better if she sat. Wired, but at any moment could collapsed from exhaustion. He sat down on the chair next to her, waiting for her breaths to even out. "Yes…" she finally answered, opening her eyes. She bit her lower lip, gaze focused on her thighs. Alison must have called it in, but… if Billy's earlier predictions had been right, the guys that had tried to provoke Kurt on his lunch break would not have left her alone. If they had seen her, this could have easily been a homicide. "We were sleeping, but I woke up."

"What made you wake up?" Billy questioned. "Did you hear something?"

"No, I…" Alison sighed. "I just had to go to the bathroom. After I finished, I heard my cell phone ringing. I answered it, and went outside to take the call." She shook her head. "I walked away from the apartment, just a little bit down the street. I couldn't have been gone for more than-" Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "-Ten minutes…? And then I went back and-and found him like that." She bowed her head, pressing her lips hard together and squeezing her eyes shut.

"You didn't see anything strange? Maybe you left the door unlocked?" Billy suggested.

"No," Alison replied, and then sniffled. "The door locks automatically when its shut. The side door was opened, but I… I thought Kurt had done it. I didn't think anything of it."

"Okay, that's good…!" he told her. "We might be able to pull some fingerprints and get the ones who did this." The District Attorney frowned again, rubbing her cheeks with both hands. "Hey, we _are_ going to catch them. I'm going to call the Sheriff and he and Brock are going to start by going over to his apartment." She gave a slight nod. "So who called you?" Alison stiffened, nearly jerking away from him. Odd reaction.

"That doesn't matter," she said.

"It might," Billy replied. "It might not be a coincidence that you took that call right before the home invasion."

"No, that's-!" Alison blinked, and then realization slowly trickled onto her expression. Barely noticeable, signs of anger appeared in her dark brown eyes. Then she fixed her face into neutral. Cold. She shut down. "That's not important." She breathed out. "Just a business call—it doesn't matter."

"You normally take business calls so late at night?" Billy pressed.

Alison narrowed her eyes before sharply turning her gaze elsewhere. She had looked murderous. "I said it _doesn't_ _matter_ ," she repeated. "It won't help you find the bastards that burned him. It must have been more than one because Kurt would have fought back. There would have been signs of a struggle, but there weren't. It was like-" Her teeth clenched. "-He must have been held down while someone else burned him. You do your job and find them… And I'll do mine." Billy could tell he would not get anything further on that late night 'business' phone call. Maybe she was right that it had nothing to do with the home invasion. Maybe it had only been a coincidence, after all. But the way she obviously intended to hide it meant that she thought it _did_ have something to do with his partner being attacked. For now, though, he wouldn't be able to do anything about that.

"Alright…" Billy said. "I'll… call Sheriff Hood right now." He stood up from the chair and moved away from her. Letting out a soft sigh, he couldn't help but think Alison… Well, he had seen that look she had given a lot back on the reservation. It came from those who were determined to take the law into their own hands. No. It couldn't be that, could it? Alison was sharp. To be the District Attorney, she would have to be. She must realize that someone of her position—her complexion, to be perfectly honest—wouldn't willingly get involved in something like this. Not by themselves, at least. And Alison seemed determined to remain tight-lipped. There wasn't much she could do, regardless. Nothing but to wait for the police to make their arrests.

Hopefully, it would be soon. Sighing to himself, Billy dialed the memorized number of the Sheriff's office. He had to ignore the slight nagging of his instincts to persist with getting all the facts from Alison, and not just about this particular incident. Everything pertaining to Kurt, actually. One day, he would hear the full story of those two, but for now, Billy's priority would have to be focused on finding the bastards that had gone after one of their own. He listened to the ringing as most of his thoughts went out to his partner. The man had made his way out of scum. To think he might not make it through the rest of his life now after turning it around…? It would be unfair. _"Come on, Bunk,"_ Billy thought just as the line picked up. _"You can make it through this."_

"This is Hood," his boss greeted.

"Sheriff, we have a situation here… It's Bunker."

0-0

Rebecca heard shouting. It had been going on for a good five minutes. Visitors weren't uncommon to her uncle's residence, so she had thought nothing of it when she had heard the doorbell. She had remained in her room, reading over dossiers she had compiled. So far, the information was, at best, menial—not at all enough to help her uncle, but she would have to start somewhere. As her uncle had told her, she didn't know everything. But she would eventually, and become better equipped to assist in his endeavors. For now, though, she had to remain patient. Anyway, this particular visitor seemed to have the audacity of God. Rebecca had never heard anyone yell at her uncle.

Narrowing her eyes, she slid off her bed, leaving the documents on her bed. No one ever ventured in her room, so they were safe for the moment. Maybe the conversation hadn't started off bad, but it had certainly escalated enough disturb Rebecca's thoughts. She quietly opened the door to her bedroom. The shouting became louder. Briefly, she thought about Clay Burton. Surely, he would have put a stop to whoever had the nerve to yell at her uncle. Despite his faults, the impassive man had an unwavering loyalty, and would not allow such disrespect. Most likely, Burton was not home—still running about on a Sunday afternoon, completing the tasks that her uncle may have assigned.

Rebecca made her way down the hall, bare feet lightly touching the rug covered floor. The closer she got to the stairs, the better she could make out the voice. It belonged to a woman, and she was clearly hysterical. As she went down the stairs, she pieced together words. It sounded as though the woman was demanding something of her uncle. Frowning, she stopped at the bottom of the steps. Assumingly, they were in the den. Rebecca pressed her back against the wall right before the threshold. Maybe she shouldn't be eavesdropping, but… "You are being unreasonable, Alison," her uncle sounded calm despite the seemingly irate female. Rebecca blinked, surprised. Alison Medding…? The District Attorney? "What makes you so certain that I had anything to do with what happened to your Deputy?"

"So it was a complete coincidence that you call me, out of the blue, so late at night, and our conversation lasted just long enough for those _monsters_ to-" Rebecca could hear her ragged breathing from where she stood. Clearly, the topic of conversation wasn't a trivial thing. Alison didn't seem the type of woman who would become distraught, especially in the presence of someone like her uncle. "Look, Proctor, I could care less _how_ you knew beforehand. But I know damn well that did know about it. Any means necessary to keep me from harm, isn't that what you said? Isn't that what you promised my mother?"

Her uncle did not give a verbal response to those questions, but Rebecca's lips parted in surprise. Admittedly, she hadn't thought about her uncle's past relationship with the woman formerly known as Arita Morgan recently. It had been brushed to the far reaches of her mind, including thoughts of Alison, to be honest. But a promise like that…? It was a debt. She had only heard of one other debt her uncle had had. She had stumbled across that information as well, and it had dealt with a man known as Sugar Bates. Funds were regularly transferred to the man's bar. So even if business wasn't doing well, it would stay afloat. No, she didn't know the reason behind her uncle's sentiment, but she realized that it must have been a debt.

Burton later confirmed it for her, though it had taken some convincing. And now, apparently, there was another debt. Arita Morgan must have had done something incredible to cause her uncle to keep a promise like that. Unfortunately, Burton wouldn't be much help in the details of that because he hadn't been around at the time of their partnership. It would probably be tricky to find the reason for such a promise, but the curiosity had returned. Perhaps one day Rebecca would look further into the woman, but for now, she would focus on the beneficiary of such a promise.

"And I'm guessing, had I not taken your call, harm would have been the _least_ that they would have done to me if they had found me in bed with him," Alison continued. "I'm not asking for confirmation of your knowledge to what they did. What I want is a number and their names."

"Just what would you do with that information? It would be inadmissible in court, worthless to you," her uncle replied. This time, it was Alison that chose not to response. " _Ah_ … So you intend to regress back to the recklessness of your youth, do you?"

"What I do with the information is none of your concern," Alison retorted. "Give me the names of the men that burned Kurt or I swear to any god listening that I won't stop until you are in jail for the rest of your life."

"… As I said before, I cannot help you. I advise you not to proceed with this foolishness. If you want them, let the police investigate and make their arrest. Have them in court and take them down the right way as you have been doing. Like an adult."

"Monsters don't deserve the right way," Alison said. "And you should be _grateful_ I don't put you in that same category. Don't talk to me like _you're_ my father." Hm. That was a strange place to put an emphasis on, Rebecca commented in her head. "But fine. You've clearly made your choice. The next time you hear from me _will_ be in court. Don't call me again, Proctor."

Rebecca pursed her lips, pressing herself harder against the wall. The sharp clacks of the woman's heels entered her ears, alerting her of Alison's pending departure. Seconds later, the District Attorney walked beyond the threshold, unaware of Rebecca's presence. She stared at the woman's back, contemplating. Her uncle may have given a dismissive response, as expected, really, but Alison's final words had been too concerning for her. A woman in her position—it hadn't been an idle threat. It had been a _vow_. A month later, and Rebecca could still remember the tingles she felt from the power the woman had exuded. A determined woman like that would make good on her threats.

So without another thought, Rebecca went after Alison. The woman had already gone through the front door. Rebecca had barely caught it before it shut. "DA Medding…!" she called out to her. Alison sharply turned, having just opened the door to her car. Rebecca halted on the porch. The look on her face was near feral. Rebecca pursed her lips, feeling her nerves clench. Then Alison regained her composure, and then calmly asked what she wanted. Rebecca swallowed hard, steeling herself. "My uncle may not be able to part with the information you seek, but I see no harm in giving you what you want."

" _You're_ going to help me, Ms. Bowman?" Alison asked, clearly skeptical.

"I have the means and opportunity to do so," Rebecca easily replied. "I have acquired a few resources since the last time we spoke. I am… confident that I can get you what you need. For a favor. My uncle—he's off limits. Never pursue him legally, and I'll get you those names." Alison regarded her with cool, calculative eyes.

"Just because I wouldn't prosecute him doesn't mean he'd be safe from the law," she told her.

"As if anyone else would be competent enough," Rebecca remarked. "I think we both know how effective you are."

"Why would you help me? Do you even know what this is about?"

"It doesn't really matter what it's about," she replied. "All I know is that you're desperate—enough to come into the belly of the beast." A smirk formed on her face. "Our circumstances have reversed quite neatly, wouldn't you agree?" Alison didn't respond to the slight taunt. "What do you say? I get the information you want and you leave my uncle alone. Deal?"

"..." The woman's incisor grazed her lower lip and turned her eyes elsewhere for a moment. "If you can't deliver, Proctor's not the only one I'm coming for. Everyone that lives under this roof will go down. You might look the part, but you're far from innocent, aren't you?"

"That makes two of us, doesn't it?"

For a long moment, the District Attorney merely stared. "There was a home invasion recently. A deputy got hurt, and I can't rely on the Sheriff's department to bring the ones who did it in. So get the names of the people who did it. Only then will we have a deal." Alison frowned, and then climbing into her car. Within moments, the car drove away. Rebecca watched until the back of the vehicle could no longer been seen. A heavy, but silent breath fell from her lips. Perhaps there would come a day where she would have that same intimidating presence, instead of just playing at it, but for now, she had to do what she could. And this… deal with Alison Medding could be the first step into coming into her own power. A stepping stone, perhaps. But it was a wonder… What would make a woman like that become so desperate? Still, Rebecca would get the information for her.

Almost a week later, she personally handed the District attorney three names and two addresses.

0-0

With his arms crossed over his chest, Lucas Hood stood by the window of the hospital room, gaze focused on his deputy. Kurt Bunker had been transferred to the burn unit of the hospital a few days ago. The man was still unconscious. According to the doctors, he was best that he remain unconscious to make it through the worse of the recovery. His lungs had been damaged due to the severe burn, so he had been hooked up to breathing machines, too. Watching him now, the _Sheriff_ couldn't help but think about the last deputy he had been powerless to help.

He clenched his jaw, willing thoughts of Siobhan Kelly from his mind. It still stung, months later. He still had nightmares, really. He normally put on a face during the day, but it wasn't like he could shut off his dreams. Eventually, he would succumb to sleep and dream of her… Swallowing, he blinked away the sting of his eyes. He cleared his throat just as the sound of the door opening ripped his gaze away from Bunker. He met the gaze of Alison Medding. Her tired deep brown eyes stared at him for a few seconds, body pausing in the doorway. "Hey," he greeted her. He forced a grin. "Thought I'd find you here."

"Why are looking for me, Sheriff?" she asked.

"Just need to follow up. You weren't at work—haven't been for the past couple days," he stated.

"Forgive me for taking liberties with my perfect attendance," Alison countered. She visibly swallowed before her gaze darted to the unconscious man. It had been more than a month, and it was still mind-reeling that Kurt Bunker and Alison Medding were a _thing_. Not just any thing—lovers. Even someone like Job would be speechless if he knew. "What do you want?"

"Like I said—following up with what happened," he said. He glanced down, noting her bandaged hands and wrists. "How'd that happen?" He nodded to the white cloth. Alison stiffened, but it had been a subtle action. If he hadn't been looking for it, he probably wouldn't have noticed. The woman lifted her hands, fingers of her left hand pinching at the bandages of her right.

"Was moving furniture around," she said. "Tripped on a rug and went right through my glass coffee table. Sprained my wrist pretty bad, too."

"… Ouch," he commented.

"That's what the doctor said," Alison murmured drily. Huh. A lie. "So… What's the following up? What's this about? I already told Billy everything for the official report."

"Yeah, we got that," he stated. "This is something different. Yesterday, we got a call about a home invasion. Thought it might be connected to what happened to Bunker because… well, their tattoos weren't exactly family friendly." Alison's expression remained stoic at the news. "They weren't burned, though. They were beaten. So bad, in fact, that for a while there, it seemed like they wouldn't make it through the night. Bloody, broken bones, bruises all over. It was a rampage. Angry and personal. Initially, we thought someone was targeting guys with those type of tattoos. But then Brock managed to ID one of them. Some asshole named Otto. Wasn't the nicest guy, but he tried provoking Bunker on the night that he was burned." He shrugged his shoulders, putting on a wry smile. "Got me thinking—maybe the connection is actually a retaliation for what happened to Bunker. That's my working theory, anyway. What do you think?"

"…" Alison licked her lips, looking elsewhere for a moment. Her right eyebrow cocked up before she returned her attention back to him. "Pardon my bias, Sheriff, but I don't care about that. This… Otto… you got proof that he did it—that he burned Kurt?"

"Nope. None."

"Then don't come at me with circumstantial evidence. Find something solid so that you can make your arrest and not have my office breathing down your neck."

"Alright. I hear you." He stared at her a moment longer before heading towards the door. He stopped just before leaving. "All I'm saying is… whoever's doing this could start a war. Maybe they should quit while they're ahead."

"Yeah? And what did you do with that advice when you first came to town?"

"… I'll be seeing you around, Alison. Take care." The District Attorney did not respond to his parting words. He turned around to find that she had taken a seat on the far side of the room. Gaze focused solely on Bunker as he lay in bed. Her frown and furrowed brow wrinkled her face as she watched him. Her hand grasped his limp one, intertwining their fingers together. His and hers. Inked and bandaged. She was really broken up over this. Seeing it with his own two eyes—it hadn't been just a random, we got drunk and slept together and it just kept happening without the alcohol type of thing. When asked, Kurt had only remained tight-lipped about it, but it was clear to see that there was a deep connection between them. It didn't take a genius to reach for her as a suspect because of it.

Well, if he hadn't known better, he would have never come to the conclusion that Alison would— _could_ —do something as vicious as the beat down those skinheads had been the victim of. He had known better, though. More than a month ago, at Camp Genoa, everyone who had died had been shot… except one. Beaten to death had been the cause, not bullets. At the time, he hadn't thought too much of it, but after seeing Otto, and that other one, lying up in the hospital clinging to their lives by a thread, he had started to connect the dots. He had seen some pretty outrageous shit in Banshee, Pennsylvania. It stands to reason that the District Attorney could be as malicious as the next guy. Learn something new every day in this town. Keeping a sigh to himself, the man known as Lucas Hood walked out of the room, hoping to hell that Alison's rampage was over.

0-0

One last time.

Alison released a long breath as she pressed the button to open her garage door. She watched as the electronic door as it moved, but her mind was elsewhere. One last time. Maybe she wouldn't feel so damn angry afterwards. Clenching her jaw, she moved over to her motorcycle, taking the clicker with her. To think it had been his own brother. When Rebecca Bowman had given her those names, she hadn't imagined that Calvin Bunker would have been among the list. He actually burned his own brother. Kurt had been so confident, and had paid for it. Alison breathed harshly through her nose. One last time. She hooked the clicker around the silver part of the handle, and then reached for her helmet. Just as she was about to slip it over her head, she noticed the faint spatter of last night's activities.

Her teeth gnashed together so hard that it was almost painful. Then she breathed slowly, in and out, until her body relaxed. They had deserved, she told herself. For doing what they had done. They had deserved it. Alison rubbed away the smudge with her thumb, making a mental note to thoroughly clean the helmet after she returned home. She was certain that the Sheriff already had his suspicions… Still, she had to do this. Had to. One last time. Closing her eyes, she prepared to slide the helmet on. However, her cell phone vibrating in her back pocket stopped her movements. With a sigh, she set the helmet down on the seat, and then reached into the pocket of her jeans with her left hand.

Sighing softly, she glanced at the screen. She recognized the number, but was surprised to see it. With everything that has been going on recently, she had pretty much shut everything else out. Right now, her vendetta was the priority. Her eyes shifted, focusing on the time. She had a limited window, but maybe she could take the call just to find out why she was being called. As long as she reached that empty stretch of road before 6:10, then she could still do what needed to be done. Deciding, she slide her thumb against the green icon and answered, stopping the vibration of the device. "This is Alison," she greeted after pressing the phone to her ear.

"Ms. Medding," the voice of a woman returned. "We have news. Are you able to come into today?"

" _Uh_ , no, actually—I have something to do," she stated. "But I'll come back tomorrow."

"I-I'm afraid this is urgent. We would like to speak with you today."

"You can't tell me right now?"

"… It would be better if-"

" _Just_ tell me now," Alison cut in.

Then she did… and it changed everything.

The longer she listened to the woman, the harder it became to breathe. Finally, her arm dropped from, pulling the cell phone away from her ear. Alison could still hear the woman talking, but it had become background noise to her own hammering heart. Jesus Christ. She clutched at her chest with her free hand while her fingers gripped the cell phone hard enough to recognize it as painful. "Kurt…" Alison clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut. "Fuck…! _Fuck_!" Unthinking, she kicked out, managing to knock the bike over. The sound of the impact against the cement floor, jolted her from the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her completely.

"Ms. Medding…? Ms. Medding, are you still there? I know that this news is-"

Breathing in deeply, Alison held the phone back up to her ear. "I'm still here," she said, nearly whispering. "I…" She opened her eyes, trying to blink back the stinging. "I'm coming in right now." The woman hummed anxiously as though unsure of respond, and then cautiously confirmed that they would see her soon. Alison listened to the click of the receiver, and then the beep her of cell phone, which indicated the call had been disconnected. She stood there for a moment, frozen and numb. And then everything hit her all at once. A strangled sob jumped from her mouth as her knees buckled. She fell to the floor, phone slipping from her grasp. Her shoulders shook, trying desperately to hold in tears, but to no avail. Despite a voice hissing at her, urging her to go to him, Alison remained on the floor of her garage and just cried. And cried. And cried. There would be no _one last time_.

And so Calvin Bunker would make it home safely.

Unaware of how close he had been to the wrath of a monster.

0-0

Two weeks later, Alison found herself in Kurt's room. She sat in a chair, staring blankly at the floor. She had been in this position for about an hour now. She supposed she was hoping for the man to wake up. Truthfully, he might have been up a few weeks ago, but… there had been complications with his lungs. The burn had gone deeper than the doctors had initially thought, so… He almost hadn't made it. He had almost _died_ during surgery, they had told her. Because of that scare, they wouldn't be waking him up until they were certain Kurt would be able to breathe on his own, and now they had him strapped to the bed in an upright position to relieve pressure from his chest. She hated it. Seeing him this way, she hated it, but her anger had been subdued already. Now, she was… just resigned.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she breathed in through her nose. Enough was enough. She had been stalling for a while now. It was time. Alison tilted her head up, eyes finding Kurt's barely moving form. Her bit her lower lip, watching him. If it hadn't been for the breathing tubes and the large gauze on his chest, she would think that he was only sleeping. She could just imagine him waking up and smiling at her. Alison pressed her lips together. The faint beeping of his heart monitor had been dreadful to listen to these last few weeks. She wished he would just wake up, so she could make sure he understood… why she had to do this. But if wishes were poppy…

Alison stood from the chair, and then slowly made her way over, hand already poised to reach for him. Her fingertips slid up his right arm as she moved closer, and then back down, fingers curling around his hand. "I know you can't hear me…" she began in a soft voice. "But I… need to say this out loud. I guess to completely solidify what I need to do." Voice barely a whisper, Alison stared down at her Kurt, willing herself continue. She clenched her teeth, frowning. "Kurt… I messed up… and now, I can't stay here." Of course, he didn't respond to her statement. Gordon had been speechless, too. For several moments. And then the interrogation had begun. However, Alison had held firm and had been as vague as possible with her answers. In the end, the Mayor had accepted her resignation. Kurt, however, wouldn't be able to argue or interrogate. "Believe me—I don't want to go. I don't, but I'm-I'm afraid." She tilted her head to the right, gaze shifting away from him for a moment.

It was an embarrassing feeling. Fear. Maybe she had gotten that mindset somewhere along the way after Proctor had raised her to be an unfeeling lethal weapon. Or after she had tasted stolen power for herself. From whatever point, she had become unafraid of dangers, regardless of how big or small. But now… Real fear had been instilled within her. And that fear overpowered her desire to stay in Banshee. Her desire to stay with Kurt. Alison shut her eyes again, sniffing harshly and then releasing a shaky exhale. In the end, her decision had been the only option. Especially since she wasn't sure of the time limit. She had already given her resignation. She had already packed up her house. She had already come to terms that this—what she had built in this town—was over.

"With the way things are now, I can't stay," Alison continued, squeezing his hand. Her wrist had been sprained before, but the pain of squeezing was nothing in comparison to the squeezing of her heart. "And I can't wait until you wake up and recovery either. I'm sorry, Kurt." Out of everything she had to leave behind, leaving him in this state weighed the heaviest. She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his temple. "I love you." Blinking back tears, she reared back, slipping her hand away from his. The first time she had uttered those words out loud, and he hadn't heard. It was frustrating, but she could only accept it. This was her reality now.

A tear escaped her eyes, and Alison hurriedly reached up to swipe at her cheek. Sniffing, she turned away from the unconscious man, facing the nearby counter table. His other visitors, Billy, Lucas and Brock, obviously—surprisingly, Carrie Hopewell and Sugar Bates—had left behind get well gifts. Flowers that were on the verge of wilting, balloons steadily losing helium, a small gift basket, and a teddy bear. The bear had been an inside joke, Billy had told her. He had tried to explain it, but… she hadn't been in the mood for jokes at the time. Still, the gifts had shown how far Kurt had come. People cared about him in some form or another. And he would see that the instant he woke up.

Alison reached inside her long strapped purse, which hung from her left shoulder, and pulled out the carefully written card. She had fretted over the right words to write nearly all of yesterday night. It wasn't great, but hopefully it would be enough. Sighing, she placed the folded card among the rest of the gifts, propped against the teddy bear's leg. Alison then turned to face Kurt one last time. "I hope… you can forgive me," she said. Shifting her weight uneasily, she stood in place for a moment, merely watching. But she had stalled for long enough, and so, forcing her line of sight away from him, she headed towards the door. Upon opening the door, she spared another glance at Kurt Bunker, the man who had made her fall in love with him. A bittersweet smile, as small as it was, crossed her face. "Goodbye, Kurt."

With that farewell, Alison Medding walked out of his life.

0-0

In the dead of night, she slipped into the hospital room. She had moved quietly and carefully to remain undetected by the staff. Visiting hours were over, but this timeframe was the only way she could actually come see him. Honestly, it would be the only time she would attempt to. She needed to see for herself what Calvin had done. He had been vague and closed off from the explanation. Unsurprisingly, really. They were still brothers no matter what happened. He must have felt uneasy about teaching Kurt a lesson.

The security about this time was lax at best, so it had been easy to navigate to his room. Actually, it had been easy to find his room, too. There had been no one at the nurse's station—obviously, on a break. It had given her enough time to spy the visitor's log and rip the page from the rest of the book. 308 was the room number Kurt was stationed in. Surprisingly, the man had had more visitors than anticipated. She had expected one, to be honest, and had expected it to be of the professional variety—a common courtesy type of thing. However, there had been multiple sign-ins for the same room. The lot of them only used their initials. Like BR, AM, LH. One signature had been chicken scratch, while another one had the neat penmanship of Brock Lotus. One had only wrote down 'Bates.' Sounded familiar, but she didn't know why. Right now, she chose not to dwell on it.

She hadn't expected someone like Kurt, a man who's top half was covered in ink, to have _friends_. But it didn't matter. Not really. She would erase them all eventually. Her hazel, mostly blue, eyes darted towards the man strapped to the bed. His chest had been wrapped with medical dress, and apparently he needed the assistance of machines to keep breathing, judging by the tubes in his mouth. Calvin had burned him good, it appeared. She had heard of some burn victims having to 'lay' upright because of extreme cases in order to recovery properly.

Kurt had brought them on himself, though. After almost six years, he had come back, only to publically display his association with the wrong side. A cop, of all things. He should have just never returned. It would have been easier. But he hadn't, and had taken foolish actions against his own brother. A turncoat. Narrowing her eyes, she walked by his bed, focusing on the assortment of gifts. Unexpected, but not relevant in the long run.

Despite him being a turncoat, he still had so much potential. So many years ago, before he had fled like a coward, he had been one of the best. Everyone had known it, and looked to him to be… second. If not for that botched plan, Kurt might have been second. He would have taken the reins and led them all properly in the absence of the leader. The leader had made it abundantly clear that if Kurt had ever returned to Banshee, he would need to be brought back into the fold, no questions asked. But the stupid man had gone and become a _cop_. It made things difficult, but not impossible. She would follow the order using any means. Calvin put up a good front, but the reality was that he needed his brother. So despite her own feelings on the matter, she would bring Kurt back. Her father, the imprisoned leader, had wanted it as well, after all.

And so, she set to work getting rid of the mementos. She quietly popped the balloons and threw the remains, as well as the flowers, into the trash. She thought about tossing the teddy bear, too, but… perhaps she would keep it for Hank. Tucking it under her arm for now, she eyed the get well soon card. The cover of the card was simple enough of a flowery design. Most get well cards were. She opened the card, eyes scanning over the handwritten words. Her lips parted in surprise, and then she narrowed an accusing gaze on the unconscious man. Not just friends, but a significant other, too? Someone, outside _their_ right way of thinking, had gotten close enough to share themselves with him? A huff left her mouth, mildly annoyed, before turning her attention back to the card.

As she finished reading, though, she realized what the words on the card meant. It was perfect. This would do the job far better than mere 'friends' would. A hard smile crossed her face as she looked back at Kurt once more. The message had been signed with only the letter G. She wondered who the woman was, but it didn't really matter. She had found Kurt's weakness, and she would be take full advantage. All to ensure the wishes and desires of her husband and father. "I'll be seeing you real soon, Kurt."

Maggie Bunker curled her fingers, crushing the parting message in her hand.

0-0


	16. Some Rifts Are Just Too Big To Jump

Slowly, his eyes cracked open. Vision blurred, he stared up at his ceiling and frowned. Christ. It had happened again. He shut his eyes, pressing his lips together hard. A sharp exhale left him through his nose, but he made no other motion to leave his bed. He could still feel the warmth of her body if he lay still enough. Still hear the whisper of his name from her lips. Still see her smiling. So close and so casual, he could still feel her fingertips across his skin, tracing the edges of his tattoo. … But the skin was no longer marred with ink. It was scarred, rugged from healing. Never again would it be as smooth as before. Never again would it be touched as before. Never again…

Abruptly, Kurt sat up, dispersing the phantom vision his dream had left him. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. Christ. He needed to stop doing this to himself. Every once and awhile, he would… remember, and it normally put him in a pretty irritable mood. Roughly, Kurt rubbed at his face with both palms, attempting to will away remnants of his dream. Today wasn't the day for it. Sighing, he lowered his hands, eyes shifting to the window of his bedroom. The afternoon sun peak through the closed blinds. Then he turned his attention to the alarm clock to the right. He had woken up about an hour before it could go off.

Almost scowling, he reached over to switch off the alarm. He could probably catch a few more minutes of sleep, but decided not to risk it. The last time he was late, he had gotten an earful. Kurt yawned, and then removed the top sheet from his body. The actual comforter had been folded and put away as soon as the temperature had gone up. Technically, it wasn't even spring yet. It was shaping up to be another hot summer at this rate. Kurt stood up and stretched for a moment, allowing the rest of his body to wake up.

Once done, he went about his routine, starting in the bathroom and ending in the kitchen. He warmed up some oatmeal in the microwave. A light breakfast because he would be eating again pretty soon. He took his time eating as he thought about what the day would look like for him. He imagined it would go something like all of his Fridays and Saturdays, but it didn't hurt to plan ahead. Just as he was rinsing out his bowl, Kurt heard the doorbell ring. He shut off the flow of water, and then set the bowl and spoon in the left sink for a more thorough clean later.

Like yesterday, he was excited by the sound. No one really came around to his house, so the visit would always be a reprieve on his days off. Kurt hurried to the front door, pulling at his long-sleeved shirt to cover his arms. Fortunately for him, he never had to worry about the air shutting off here. So he normally wore long-sleeves whenever he was expecting company. The doorbell rang again just as he made it to the front door. He twisted the knob and opened the door, already forming a slight smile at the sight of her.

Maggie stood on his porch, long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore casual clothes, as she did every Saturday. She was a sight, especially with the special package she carried in her arms. Kurt would always be grateful to his sister-in-law. If he hadn't been for her, he would have drowned in paranoia and depression. After… After what happened, she had gone out of her way to check up on him. Had brought him things to eat. Had urged him to change his medical dressing. Despite who her husband was, she had helped him recover when no one else would. Even now, she was helping him. These twice-a-week visits had become the norm for them over the course of a year and a half.

Her efforts of bringing him back were appreciated, but it was the tyke in her arms that had really brought him out of it. A relationship with his five-year-old nephew. That had been the best thing Maggie could have ever done. Kurt lifted his arms, reaching for the small boy to take him from his mother's hold. Maggie gave him a smile as she willingly transferred Hank to him. The slight jostling hadn't interrupted his slumber at all. He just wrapped his tiny arms around Kurt's neck and proceeded to drool on his shoulder.

Arm securing the boy to his person, Kurt held out his other arm so that he could grab the large bag from Maggie. She mouthed her thanks as she gave him the bag. Kurt hefted the bag's strap on his right shoulder and nodded in acknowledgement. Maggie thanked him every time she dropped her son off. Really, it was never a problem. He loved the kid, and actually had fun whenever Hank showed up. "I'll pick him up in a couple hours," Maggie whispered, sliding her fingers down the side of his right arm. There had been a time where Kurt had flinched away from her touch. Not anymore.

"Take care," Kurt told her. She smiled prettily, and then turned on her heel. He watched her go until she was in the minivan. Hearing the vehicle start up, he turned to go back inside his house. He sat the large bag down near the door and walked over to his couch. Carefully, he laid his nephew facedown against the cushions. Hank would be up pretty soon, despite being a heavy sleeper, and then he would eat. He wasn't exactly a picky eater, but the boy absolutely refused to eat leftovers. God knows where he learned that sort of habit. So the spaghetti he had _helped_ make yesterday night was out of the question.

Kurt turned away from his sleeping nephew. He went back over to the front door and dropped down to unzip the bag. Usually, there were toys and books stored, along with another set of clothes. But what he was looking for was the small tablet. His nephew had been teaching him about electronics. It was amazing that this little kid could teach an adult about the newer technologies of the world. In fact, his nephew had been the reason Kurt had eventually upgraded his cell phone from a basic flip. There had been lots of teasing involved, which had reminded him greatly of… Naomi.

He could still remember the first time Maggie had dropped Hank off. She had been flustered and frantic because her babysitter had canceled on her at the last minute. She had begged and bemoaned, completely ignoring his slight protest—he hadn't known how to take care of a _child_ —but she had pushed her son into his arms, and had left in a hurry. That first hour had been awkward because neither of them had known how to react to the sudden meet and greet. However, afterwards, they had warmed up to each other.

And honestly, the forced introduction had come only a week after an unfortunate occurrence between the boy's mother and uncle. Kurt still looked back at the incident and grimaced. There had been ranting and too much wine on Maggie's part, and… one thing had led to another. It had been a mistake, one that he had almost gone through with. Maggie had been caring and so helpful, and Kurt had been lonely. And she had been annoyed, or upset with her husband at the time. It had been a slight peck against his lips, which had turned into something more. Something more than just kissing. He had almost given in even though she was his sister-in-law. In the end, that hadn't been the reason he had pushed her away.

It had been all wrong. Not the relation. But the feel—skin too smooth, unblemished by scars. The smell, like warm honey, hadn't been the unique combination of spice and vanilla. The sound of his name sighed out through the wrong mouth, just so unlike a challenge and a whine for more. No fervor. No power. No soothing comfort either. Just skin against skin. It hadn't been the same, and his body had recoiled because of it. Kurt had frozen on top of her, and then had pushed himself away—had even told her to get her clothes and leave. It hadn't been the most dignified reaction, and Maggie had stayed away for an entire week. At least, until, she had dumped her son on him in a panicked state.

There had been a bit more distance between them after that, but Kurt had made an effort to forget—and so did Maggie—for the sake of his nephew. Hank was a smart kind. Entertaining, too. He like spending time with him, and no awkward tension between his mom and his uncle would trivialized that. Hank had acknowledged Kurt as his uncle, and whether he had been told or had realized it himself, he knew to keep these little visits secret. As far as Calvin was concerned, his son was with a trusted baby sitter on Fridays and Saturdays.

"Uncle K…" a yawning voice caught his attention. Kurt turned around and stood to his full height. His nephew, rubbing his left eye, walked towards him. Uncle K—it sounded like a knockoff soda brand, but Hank had taken a liking to calling him that. "I'm hungry…" Of course he was.

"Alright, go to the bathroom and wash your hands," Kurt told him. "Then we can make sandwiches." The boy nodded his head. "Afterwards, we can play soccer in the backyard." Immediately, the tired look vanished and Hank's eyes brightened.

"And then we can work on the truck?" he asked, eagerly. Unlike his father, Hank had taking a liking to fixing vehicles. Well, _helping_ to fix vehicles. He still had a way to go before he could become his own mechanic. It had taken Kurt, himself, quite a bit to get the hang of it.

"Then we can work on the truck," Kurt agreed with a nod. " _And_ if your mom tells me you've been good, I'll pick up some popsicles when I go to the store tonight." Hank cheered, and then turned sharply and practically scampered down the hallway towards the bathroom. "No running!" he called after the boy. He only received bubbly laughter in response. Still, he had to smile. This was a great way to spend his weekend. Honestly, he didn't know where he would be now if it hadn't been for the relationship he had with his nephew. A slow sigh left his mouth as he gripped the tablet in his hand.

Two years. This had become his reality. Going to work. Waiting on his weekends to spend time with Hank. The two constants in his life. For the most part, he would keep himself occupied until one of the constants came along. He still read. He still mediated on occasion. He still cooked. Rinse and repeat. Kurt was content with it. Dreaming of things he no longer had—there was just no room for it anymore. He didn't need to. He didn't want to. He could move on to this reality. He had _already_ moved on to this reality.

Kurt Bunker had also gotten good at lying.

So the hours passed by, and before he knew it, it was time for his nephew to leave. It had felt like too little time had gone, but the dark outside contested that uncle and nephew had spent the majority of the day together. Maggie, of course, arrived on time to take her son. The little tyke had worked himself to collapse again, and so Kurt carried him to the minivan for his sister-in-law. She smiled pleasantly at him, lightly tapping his arm as he straightened after putting Hank in the backseat. He slid the door shut as he turned to her, giving her a tight smile in return. "I told him I'd get popsicles if he was good. Is that okay?" he asked.

"As long as you don't give any to him two hours before I have to pick him up," Maggie replied. She sighed softly. "Thanks a lot for this, Kurt. I can't say it enough. You doing this, for free, is really helpful."

"It's not a problem," he stated. "He's blood."

"Yeah, he's blood," she agreed with a nod. "Maybe…" She hesitated, causing Kurt to tilt his head, silently prompting her to continue her line of thought. "Maybe one day we don't have to keep hiding this from Calvin." Kurt's lungs tightened at the thought. He resisted the urge to reach up and touch his chest, swallowing hard. "You know, maybe coming back home? We can be a family again." This hadn't been the first time she had suggested something like that. The last time had been only a year after the incident that nearly cost him _everything_. What Calvin had done had shaken his resolve, but what happened afterwards had nearly broken him. Kurt didn't think he could ever forgive his brother after that. Family…? He had overestimated the value of the word, and had paid the price. He wouldn't do that again.

"You know that… he won't accept this," Kurt said. "He _branded_ me."

"I know," Maggie breathed. Her eyes darted towards his chest, and Kurt felt a bit more self-conscious. Like his shirt and undershirt wasn't covering the brand. Maggie lowered her gaze to the sidewalk. "I hate that he did that to you. But…" She hesitated, pursing her lips together for a few seconds. "He loves you, Kurt. He still loves you. He made a mistake."

"I almost _died_ , Maggie!" Kurt retorted.

"You threatened him, Kurt," she countered.

"I gave him a _choice_ ," he corrected. "And he _made_ it."

Not wanting to have another version of the same conversation, he looked away from her. Kurt could tell she wanted to say more, but the light sigh told him she wouldn't speak further on the matter. Not tonight, at least. Maggie would try again for a reconciliation between brothers. Kurt couldn't begin to imagine why the woman wanted it. He hadn't necessarily been counting, but it had been more than a few times she had attempted to persuade him to _come home_. Kurt supposed it had something to do with having her husband's best interests at heart. But she hadn't been too keen on that when she had let him take off her clothes. If he hadn't stopped it, they would have done something that never would have stayed buried.

So why try to fix a ruined relationship between brothers? Kurt could only guess that it had had something to do with Maggie feeling guilty about what they had almost done. She had nearly betrayed her husband, so maybe this was her way of making up for that. Maybe she still clung to the distant memory of the three of them together—how it used to be before they had become adults. Frankly, those times had been simpler, and more than once, Kurt found himself what it would have been like if he hadn't run away that first time. But those were juvenile illusions and her attempts at getting that back were in vain. Kurt couldn't see himself being invited over for holidays. He couldn't see himself being in the same room as his little brother—not without either attacking or cringing away. And Calvin had chosen that.

"I'm sorry," Maggie whispered. Kurt took a second to relax before shifting his gaze to her again. Maggie still had her eyes on the ground. "I just thought… since you get along so well with Hank… it would be nice if he could see you on the daily basis instead of just two days a week. He really likes you."

"I like him, too," he stated. "But some rifts are just too big to jump. What we're doing now is enough, Maggie... That's all we can do." She sighed again, frowned deeply, but then nodded her head. "Take care of yourself." Maggie nodded her head again. Again, she pressed her lips together before she turned and walked around the front of the minivan. His sister-in-law quickly got into her vehicle and started it up. Kurt stepped away from the curb, backing up until he was on the sidewalk. The minivan pulled away, and he watched it go until it was out of sight.

Sighing heavily, he turned and headed back to his house. He still had time before he had to be in bed so he wouldn't yawn as much during his shift. While Kurt was positive he didn't actually have to patrol during the ten hours, he didn't want to risk the Sheriff's side-eye. He opened the screen door, stretching his arm to grab the set of keys from the rack nailed to the wall. He then shut the actual door, making sure to lock it. Kurt turned, letting the screen door slam shut. He stepped off the porch ad headed over to his truck. It had become a habit to lock the doors of his home, but his truck generally stayed unlocked.

He climbed in, immediately inserting the right key. Unable to help himself, his eyes glanced to his right. The empty passenger seat always made him scowl, but Kurt forced himself to focus on the road ahead. He didn't even know why he still did it. Maybe he should just scrap this vehicle and get a new one. He had the funds now, after all. Sighing through his nose, he decided not to think about it right now and turned the truck on.

It didn't take long for him to come to a stop in the large parking lot of the town's supermarket. The building had been complete almost seven months ago. Only a few miles away from his house and the station, it was an ideal place to go instead of smaller stores, especially since the place didn't close.

Clearing his throat, Kurt moved to get out of his truck. Another convenience had to be being able to shop in peace without having to worry about other customers eyeing him suspiciously. It had taken awhile, but nearly everyone in town knew about the Nazi-cop and seemed to have accepted it because nothing could be done about it. There had been a few who loudly protested his position, especially after the town had gotten bigger, but in the end, the Sheriff had stood beside him. Kurt would always be grateful to the man for it. Still, there was discomfort because of his presence even after the hysteria had died down. So it was, overall, comfortable coming to the store so late at night.

Still, tonight wasn't the night for a major store trip. Honestly, he would probably just get the popsicles for Hank so that he wouldn't forget after his shift. Kurt had forgotten Hank's favorite box of _Pop Tarts_ one time, and the kid _never_ let him live it down. Smiling a bit, Kurt moved through the automatic doors. He took the quickest route towards the frozen dessert section. The boxes of various popsicles were on the end. If he remembered right, Hank liked the fudge and banana flavored ones, but recently Maggie had told him about the orange crème pops. Kurt would grab both just in case.

He turned the corner, instantly looking for the two flavors. His eyes honed in on the yellow boxes in the freezer. But out of the corner of his eye, he noticed another person in the aisle with him. He noticed the cart first, and then the person. Dressed in sneakers, dark grey leggings and a thin black jacket, he saw that this customer was a black woman. Her shoulder-length dark hair was highlighted with streaks of dark blonde. Kurt held his breath, waiting to see if she would turn towards him. Fortunately, she hadn't taken notice yet. Too busy ogling the ice cream pints, from the looks of it. Christ. He didn't feel like a confrontation tonight. It would be better to move out of the aisle and wait until she left.

About to do just that, Kurt took a step back. However, an abrupt movement from the woman halted his retreat. She moved away from her cart towards one of the freezer doors. The only reason she had caught his attention had been because her hair had swayed back, revealing the side profile of her face. He stopped breathing again, but this time it was involuntary. His thoughts screeched to a standstill. Even before he could take a closer look, even before his brain could comprehend just exactly who he had come across, his mouth formed the name.

 _That is no goddamn excuse…_

 _You're not a monster… but you're not a man either…_

 _I'm not going anywhere until I hear you rap the theme song…_

 _Despite how you look, despite how we started, I trust you…_

An ache blossomed in his chest that had nothing to do with the healed burn. It spread through him, reaching his brain and tossing out all logical thought. Before he knew it, before he could stop himself, Kurt stepped towards the woman, each step heavier than the last. Still, she hadn't noticed. She opened the freezer door, and Kurt was so close that he could feel the burst of cold air. It did little to pause his advances. He lifted his left hand, fingers wrapping around her right. She tensed, but did not jerk away. Instead, she inhaled sharply. She had to have seen the tattoo on the top of his hand, and yet she still hadn't aggressively attempted to get away from him.

" _Alison_ …?!"

0-0

It had always been the plan to come back.

The thought hadn't stopped the knot of apprehension from forming deep in her belly. Alison Medding drove past the sign, which welcomed her back to the town she had left behind two years ago, and for a few seconds thought about turning around. Just turning around and leaving the state, hell, the country, altogether. However, she couldn't do that. Not now. So she forced herself to relax, uncurling the tight grip she had taken to the steering wheel. It took several tries, but eventually, her breaths evened out and steadied. Licking her lips, she reached for the volume dial, turning down the music that blared. It had been a good distraction, but now wasn't the time to get lost in lyrics.

She was home, and it was time to start paying attention. Alison slightly lifted her foot from the gas, slowing the car's speed as she drove across the bridge. Banshee, Pennsylvania. It was a surreal experience coming back to this place. The long stretch of road to get into town passed by in a blur of shaded colors. She would take off her sunglasses once she actually reached her destination. Couldn't risk anyone recognizing her before she was fully prepared to face them. Everyone knew everyone in Banshee, even those they kept to themselves were known. It had been a huge gap regarding time, but people wouldn't forget the face of an elected official, especially one of her circumstance.

However, those assumptions quickly dissipated once she came to the end of the long stretch of road. Surprised, Alison reached up, lowering her sunglasses to get a good look. The town… had change in her absence. There had been renovations and, overall, expansions to the town. She had lived in Banshee all her life, but this was the first time witnessing any sort of development to the town. She idly wondered if the population had increased as well. Honestly, it didn't even look like her hometown anymore. Not until she hit the residential areas. Maybe it was a bit of relief to see that some things hadn't changed. Once she was done with everything today, she would have to try and explore the new additions.

For now, she perched her sunglasses back on her nose and focused on finding a specific address. It would be where she would live for the next year or so. Finally, after ten minutes of driving around, she found the house. She had done a virtual tour of the house. The paperwork had been signed and faxed to the real estate service. Because of that, this would be the first time she would actually get to walk through. Alison parked her car in the long driveway that curled around the house to the back. It didn't have much of a backyard because of it, but it was a relatively small house.

Sighing heavily, Alison turned the key and removed it from the ignition. She then grabbed her small black purse from the passenger's seat. She maneuvered the long strap around her shoulders, and then opened the door. Standing, she examined the back of the house. The concrete path led to concrete stairs and a single white door. The panels of the house were sky blue. There was an air conditioning unit next to the steps, and she could hear the blades whirring within already. Great. It was nearing eighty degrees already, and it wasn't even noon yet, so she wouldn't have to work in a hot house.

Alison shut the car door, and then made her way across the path towards the backdoor of her new home. Well, not new exactly, as it was a rental. But it would be her new place of residence starting tonight. As she stepped up, she switched the key she held for the house key. Taking her time, she entered the house, deciding right then that she would be using the backdoor as a front door. There was really no point in parking in the back, only to go around the house to get to the front door. Alison shut the door behind her, and for a moment, she reveled in the cool air that brushed her bare shoulders.

She looked around the kitchen. Everything had been delivered prior to her arrival. It was just a matter of setting things up properly. She could already tell that the refrigerator and the stove hadn't been plugged up. The rectangular dining table had been pushed against the far wall. The matching chairs hadn't been placed with the table. The movers hadn't bothered, it seemed. Alison dug into her purse for her mp3 player and immediately stuck her earphones in. While she turned on her device, she set her purse down on the wooden dining table, and then her sunglasses. Apparently, she had her work cut out. But she had been expecting it. Had wanted it, actually. By herself, with loads of work ahead of her, she could easily become distracted. That had been a part of the plan, too. Alison took a breath, held it in for a moment, and then released it slowly. Perfectly steady, she began.

Preparing and unpacking had been a long process. She had gone from room to room, setting up various things. From the kitchen to the upstairs bathroom. She had even set up the beds, something she had decided to wait to do, but she had done it anyway. By the time Alison had completed the large workload, the sun had gone down. She drew back the curtains, staring outside the front window. Biting her lower lip, her gaze darted to the clock above the fireplace. It was almost midnight. There was a high probability of any viable place already being closed. No chance on delivery. She would have to venture out again and hope the additions to Banshee had included someplace that was open twenty four hours.

Alison headed back towards the kitchen, turning off the lights as she did. She reached into the right pocket of her light jacket for her cell phone. Throughout the day, she had been checking it, looking for updates from Lena. They had come hourly as requested, but had stopped around ten o'clock most likely because they were sleeping now. She smiled down at her phone's lock screen before sliding the device into her purse, which she had grabbed from table. She yanked out her earphones, and then powered off her mp3 player. She would leave it behind because she would only do light shopping for the refrigerator. Other food items could be bought later on.

Sighing lightly, Alison wrapped the strap of her purse around her shoulder and across her chest as she opened the back door. After locking the door behind her, she quickly made her way to her car. The night was calm, yet muggy. The humidity reminded Alison how grimy her skin had become while working throughout her new residence. However, she was already in the car now. She would definitely have to hop in the shower before eating. As she pulled out of the driveway, she idly thought about getting some ice cream.

It took quite some time for her to come across a twenty four hour store. It felt like she had been driving around in a completely new town again. Fortunately, this time, there was no gross sobbing involved. Alison twisted her key, shutting off the engine, and pulled it from the ignition. By now, it was Sunday, and the large parking lot was mostly vacant. She stepped out of her car, already thinking of what she could stock the refrigerator with until the next time she decided to go to a store. It would most likely be after she spoke with who she needed to speak with on Monday.

Alison crossed her arms as she moved towards the entrance of the supermarket. She had done some mental preparations for those encounters, but coming face to face with them after so long with no contact, she was certain uncomfortable questions would be asked. And this time, she wouldn't be able to give vague answers. Not if she wanted to live comfortably after moving back home. After all, she had already resigned from the job she had taken outside of Banshee.

Pushing those thoughts from her head for now, Alison walked through the entrance. The doors were automatic, and there wasn't a greeter in sight. She made a beeline towards where the shopping carts were and picked a smaller cart. Then she pushed further into the store, immediately searching for the frozen section. She had plenty of nonperishable food items in the cabinets already because they had been packed, but she didn't feel like cooking a big meal, especially since she would be the only one to eat it. No, it was better to grab a few frozen meals, go home and eat, shower, and then go to bed. She could deal with everything else later.

Yawning a bit, Alison steered the cart in the first aisle she came across. It didn't have anything she needed at the moment, but she made note of some things she could want on the next trip. She did this for several aisles, taking her time in forming a mental map because there was no one else to bother or move out of the way for. Finally, she came across the frozen section. Not even half way down the aisle, and she had already grabbed several items. There was a quite the selection of breakfast foods on one side. The other side held quick fix dinners. Alison suddenly halted in the middle of the aisle. With her eyes, she counted the boxed dinners she had collected. Maybe she had gone overboard with them. She would have only one more day to herself, so all of this wasn't exactly necessary.

"Maybe I should put some back," she murmured. Her teeth grazed her lower lip as she seriously contemplated the decision. Hm. Maybe this was alright, though? She imagined many nights of herself being too tired to take the time to cook. Besides, they could be used as lunch, too. Making up her mind, Alison continued on down the aisle, making a sharp left into the next. Just her luck, it was the frozen dessert section. The years hadn't dimmed her love of sweets. Actually, it might have made it worse. Living with _thee_ sugar queen had only enabled the guilty pleasure. Stifling a smile, Alison began searching for a familiar brand of ice cream. She found it, and was barely able to hold back a satisfied hum. There was an entire door for _Häagen-Dazs_ with so many flavors that her previous town hadn't offered.

Alison left the cart on the other side of the aisle in favor of reaching for the door handle of the freezer. The fingers of her left hand curled around the handle and pried the door open. Her right hand lifted, intending to pick one of the intended pints of ice cream. However, before her fingertips could touch any of the cartons, her wrist was grabbed. A vice-grip had stopped her from getting one of the many treats before her. She glared down at the fingers that encased her wrist, only to suck in a sharp breath, recognizing what she was starting at. Pale skin with dark ink. The top of the hand was nearly covered by a large flaming swastika.

Alison's breath caught in her throat, realization slowly crawling towards her brain, and then snapping in place. It wasn't the symbol itself that made her feel as though her stomach had been torn out. It was who the symbol had been attached to. She knew even as she remained rigid. After all, she had traced this same symbol numerous nights—both in reality and in her dreams. " _Alison_ …?!" His voice came like a growl, simultaneously confused and accusing. She flinched, questions spinning in her head. The most prominent being _what was he doing here_? This particular supermarket definitely had to be out of his way. No question, however, slipped through as Alison slowly turned her gaze. Her sight traveled up his sleeved arm before finally settling on his face.

 _I can feel you looking at me…_

 _That illusion cracked when I was seventeen…_

 _Teach me how to get my power back…_

 _I'm not… that monster anymore…_

The memories swirled and blurred together. Memories she had so desperately tried to keep locked away for over a year had broken through. They tugged at her chest, making it hard to breathe. Alison's lips parted, but the strain of breathing prevented any word from leaving her mouth. Kurt Bunker. He looked much the same, if only a bit bigger as far as his build went. He was noticeably more muscular even with the dark long-sleeved shirt. Same hairstyle, shaved at the sides and the top slicked back. His deep poignant hazel eyes stared back at her as though he couldn't believe he had managed to latch on. His gaze darted to where his fingers were wrapped tightly around her wrist, and then back at her face.

"K-Kurt…"

Finally, a hoarse whisper of his name managed to erupt. In part, her voice had been ragged due to her singing all day while working around the house. The majority of it had been due to the fact that Kurt's unexpected presence knocked her off kilter. Took her completely by surprise. Every little thing from before—thoughts, memories, touches, _feelings_ —snapped to attention. It was an overwhelming blend of shrieks trying to escape in any way possible. Clamping down on it all had been a struggle. Fortunately, only the name had been blurted. With fight or flight instincts brimming just below the surface, Alison couldn't say for certain what else might have spewed, given the chance.

Kurt sucked in an uneven breath, looking just as shaken. Then he turned. He squeezed his eyes shut, and just turned away, not bothering to release his hold of her wrist. In a daze, Alison stumbled after him. Cart and a desire for ice cream were abandoned in favor of the droning in her own mind. Her line of sight locked with the fingers around her wrist. But it was as though she couldn't react to it. In the jumbled gibberish of screaming thoughts, only one stood out clearly. Kurt was in front of her after two years, and nothing else mattered beyond that in this moment.

He led her to the back of the store, where the entrances to the restrooms were located. Alison didn't know which entrance Kurt had taken. All she knew was that she was abruptly pushed against the outside of a stall wall. Not pushed, exactly. Kurt had yanked her forward and released her in the same motion. Her back had ended up against the wall as a result. With him very much in her personal space. Face flushed and breathing erratically, he was mere inches away. His palms were on either side of her, blocking her from escape. Not that she could even think of fleeing right now. Somehow, her breathing was just as unsteady. They breathed together like that for an unrecognizable amount of time before eventually their breaths could not be heard.

Then Kurt opened his eyes, and Alison became lost. The screaming of her thoughts faded to mere whispers, overcome by the tremor of her heartbeat. Kurt eased closer still, lips parting to mingle his breath with hers. This wasn't supposed to… _He_ wasn't supposed to… "Tell me to stop," he insisted. His forehead lightly pressed against hers. He shuddered, wanting and desperate. Why? After two years, _why_? "Push me away." A last ditch effort he had given to her in the past. Somehow, she could still remember. Previously, she hadn't told him to stop. She hadn't pushed him away. Logic dictated that after two years, she should heed his warning. For both their sakes, she needed to push. She needed to open her mouth and tell him-

"No," Alison murmured.

Logic had left the moment he had grabbed her, it seemed. She reached up, arms embracing him. Her fingers curled around the back of his shirt as she tilted her chin upward, smashing her lips against his. The screaming hushed, quick as lightning, as Kurt returned the impulsive touch of their lips. His hands pawed at her sides, fingers slipping past her jacket and bunching around the thin fabric of her camisole top. He stepped forward, and her legs spread in response. Chest to chest now, he pried open her mouth, and Alison readily met his tongue. His impassioned growl reverberated in his chest and extended to her, coaxing out a crooning mewl of pleasure. Kurt raised his hand, sliding his palm against the side of her neck. His thumb kneaded her throat in a circular motion as he continued to kiss her. And she tightened and softened all at the same time, welcoming both his hands as they familiarized themselves with her.

Jesus Christ. She had forgotten the throbbing carnal need of this. Waves of raw sensations crashed into her, and she drowned in them. Gladly. Suddenly, the years didn't matter. The distance didn't matter. The confusion, anger, and hurt didn't matter. It all seemed to melt away. Truthfully, she hadn't felt quite _back_ until now. In a bathroom of a grocery store. Pressed against a stall. Cradled in his arms. Enveloped in his scent. Swallowed by his kiss. _Home_.

Alison didn't know how long the ' _welcome back, I'm back_ ' lasted, but eventually, her lungs couldn't take the low intakes of air anymore. She felt Kurt begin to rear back, lips lingering against hers, and so, Alison, too, withdrew, sluggishly opening her eyes. Her body, inside and out, hummed, both relaxed and content. Kurt took a deep breath, lowering his forehead to rest against her left shoulder. Had they not been still holding onto each other, perhaps both would have fallen to the floor.

And then he ripped away from her. Just ripped himself from her. The separation came like a bucket of cold water. So quick and startling, her legs had nearly given out in a subconscious attempt at following. But Kurt's retreat had been too volatile, and Alison had realized that. Her mind finally caught up with her bodies actions, and she swallowed a mortified gasp. Kurt, eyes wide open now, stared at her, once again, in disbelief. There was also underlying anger there as he opened and shut his mouth, unable to voice anything. Nearly in the same boat, Alison could not form any coherent words. Not when her throat felt so dry. Not when her tongue felt so heavy. And so she clamped her mouth shut, standing there on wobbly legs, watching him despite the stinging in the corners of her eyes.

Finally, Alison realized the thundering in her heart wasn't just her heart. Kurt was breathing hard through clenched teeth. His brow furrowed as he continued to look her way, but he wasn't looking directly at her. Alison bit her lower lip. Despite the years, his outward discomfort still called to her, urging a need to mollify. She stepped forward, hand automatically reaching for him. However, Kurt jolted back, sharply shaking his head. "What the _fuck_?!" he snarled. The sound of it, once a good thing, caused her to flinch and press herself against the stall behind her. "Yo-You can't just-" He growled something else, but it was too jumbled to understand. Without warning, he turned and left. His departing footsteps clacked until they completely faded.

Only then did Alison begin breathing again. Like a crushing weight suddenly being lifted from her chest, she breathed in gulps of air, choppy and nearly heaving. Feeling a weakness in her legs, she barely grabbed the edge of the sink countertop in time. Even then, it was a struggle to stay upright. She squeezed her eyes shut, teeth biting down on her lower lip. She remained in the same position until the throbbing in her ears ceased. Once she could breathe properly, she forced her eyes open. Slowly, she began adjusting her clothes—smoothing out her top, brushing down her hair, pulling the jacket back onto her shoulders—but her mind was blank.

Perhaps, it was her own form of protection against what had transpired, but whatever the case, Alison moved without thought. Stare aimless, she left the restroom. She walked through the store, feet taking her to the entrance. She did not react to the sudden temperature change as she bypassed the automated doors. She only just recognized that her fingers were digging into purse and pulling out keys. Fumbling with the key in the ignition, Alison shut her eyes for a few seconds. The car turned on, and without precaution, she left the parking lot. The drive to her new home had been a blur. Everything had become a blur. It wasn't until she had curled in bed that she allowed her mind to conjure cruel thoughts of wanting.

They had kissed. _She_ had kissed him. Why had he _allowed_ her to? It had made no sense, and yet… it had happened, and it had felt right. Comfortable. It had been a relief, and yet so utterly dangerous. She hadn't meant for any of that to happen. She had gone through hours of mental preparation for just the one encounter. Hours, and yet the plan had been so simple. They would meet. She would tell him what he needed to know. Then he would decide what he wanted to do. None of the mental planning had involved what had actually happened. She hadn't indulged in impossible fantasies since… Jesus Christ. It had been over a year since she had stopped hoping. It seemed all that suppressing had meant so little in the end. All the pain and confusion and anger and… hope bubbled up once again, and it was a dizzying experience. Before she realized it, tears trickled down her face.

Alison Medding pulled the covers over her head, cursing the decision to return.

And yet knowing there was no going back.

* * *

So I'm back. I have purchased the final season of Banshee to help me complete this narrative. However, most plot points in the last season will not be touched. The main antagonist will not be that stupid serial killer. I found him wholly unnecessary, so I won't be using him. Which means, Eliza Dushku's character probably won't be introduced in this story either. A pity, but her character only showed up because of that stupid serial killer, so I don't imagine I'll be using her. But who knows? Anyway, thanks to all who have waited patiently for the next installment. I apologize for the ranting that will probably show up at the end of chapters regarding the final season. Because I-I have strong feels about it.

So read and discuss.


	17. Hold The Devil Back

Sundays were a bore, especially when it was getting close to the end of a shift. Billy Raven let out a soft sigh as he stared blankly at his computer's screen. There was nothing of importance on it, but just in case the Sheriff walked by, he could pretend to focus on work. Every Sunday turned out this way, honestly. After the passing years, he thought he would be used to it by now. Nope. Still boring. It was as though the community had collectively agreed to not cause trouble on Sundays. Billy supposed this routinely dragging shift was better than the alternative, which could still be every shift being a bore.

A year ago, things had abruptly changed. Suddenly, the entire Sheriff's department had been told to move from the CADI. Sure, at the time, they had received a few new hires, but everything had been packed up to move into a bigger space. Afterwards, because of that relocation, other people had applied to become deputies. It had made sense. More space, more positions to fill. The Sheriff's department had become a real police station—smack-dab in the middle of a much larger downtown. There were now over fifty people employed at the station. Compared to other cities, those were still low numbers, but the staff had grown exponentially with the growth of Banshee. They had a K-9 unit, an IT department, and _forensics_. No more seeking outside help to solve crime. The Sheriff's department was in a bigger league now.

Good thing, too. Crime had increased as well with the expansion. Just recently, they had ended a serial killer's rampage. A serial killer—in _Banshee_. Billy never thought the day would come, but it had, and the Sheriff had wiped him, and his band of followers, out before a third body could show up. _Satanists_ , the lot of them. Even now, Billy was still uncomfortable thinking about those ritualistic killings. Still, the psycho had been dealt with and Banshee could sleep peacefully. Other crimes were petty things, but it succeeded in keeping the station busy… except on Sundays.

Around the same time as the relocation, Billy had been offered the position of Chief of the Kinaho Police Department. He had considered it for several days before ultimately turning it down. It would have been an opportunity to change things on the reservation. Get rid of the corruption. Make peace amongst the tribe. Get things done. But… More than anything, he had wanted his family _off_ the reservation. Going back, uprooting them once again, even for a slight increase in paychecks, wouldn't have been good for his precious girls. His wife had supported his decision, and they had stayed.

In retrospective, it had been a good thing. His girls gained more opportunities—his wife had even become a manager—and things had still changed on the reservation. Aimee King had taken over in place of Karl Yazzie. It took her awhile, but she had effectively rooted out the corruption by herself. Then had gained three officers under her wing. Two men and another woman. Billy might not have done half as well as her. Aimee had always been the more passionate one at her job, so he was happy for her. Occasionally, they would meet up and exchange how-are-yous, so he was pretty much in the know about what went on at the reservation. And with her firmly in charge, it was no longer a hassle just to visit.

So, overall, his decision to stay in Banshee had been for the greater good. However, there were a few… hiccups. Ultimately, the reason he had decided to stay had been for the betterment of his girls. However, part of the decision had simply been because Billy thought he had been making a real difference in Banshee. He loved the work he did—except on Sundays—and the Sheriff's department, as a whole, got things done without running into a whole lot of red tape. Bad guys went away like they were supposed to. But lately, it hadn't been the same. It seemed the majority of arrests—real scumbags who deserved to be locked up—were being released without valid reason. And on the off chance they made it to court, they were still released, courtesy of the incompetence of the DA.

The Sheriff's department seemed to be in constant conflict with the DA's office. It was frustrating the amount of criminals being released due to lack of _physical evidence_. That had been the favored reasoning, which had been mostly untrue. Petty crimes were ignored, of course. It was the big things like drug-trafficking and violence where perps were let off with a slap on the wrists. Honestly, Billy understood why the Sheriff hadn't wanted to risk a guy like Declan going through the system just to get away free in the end. Billy one hundred percent supported his Sheriff. But seriously, even that man's hands were tied when it came to the bigger crimes in Banshee.

Billy frowned as he eyes darted to the digital clock on his computer screen. Fifteen minutes before he could leave. He tapped his fingers against the top of the desk with his left hand and randomly clicked the mouse with his right. He could have sworn he only had fifteen minutes to go an hour ago. Standing from his chair, Billy decided to head over to where the coffee maker was. Maybe grabbing a cup would be time-consuming enough. Wishful thinking, though. It had only taken a few minutes. Sighing lightly again, Billy stirred his cup of coffee and turned to lean against the counter.

He glanced towards the door, and then did a double take. Billy frowned as he stared at his approaching coworker. Speaking of unexpected hiccups… Kurt Bunker made his way over to his desk, dressed in uniform, and proceeded to plop down in his chair as if carrying his own weight was a burden. It was odd seeing him at this time. Normally, Kurt showed up exactly when he was scheduled, which was an hour from now. Because of their different schedules, they never crossed each other anymore. Kurt had kept the same shift, while Billy had chosen to come in during the mornings. But he hadn't decided on that shift until it had become clear that… Kurt hadn't wanted anything to do with him.

Billy had understood the distancing at first. He had. Kurt went through a harrowing experience. Burned in his own home. Not everyone would have made it through the ordeal. Obviously, he had needed time to recovery. On top of that, the woman with the cell phone had abruptly left town before Kurt had been released from the hospital. Billy didn't know the story behind that, but he had expected the guy to be moody and distant for quite some time. Only, after the doctors had cleared him to come back to work, he hadn't attempted to talk—hadn't wanted to. He had been numb for a very long time.

Eventually, Billy had stopped trying. Then, he had changed shifts so that he wouldn't have a constant reminder of his mistake. He couldn't understand why Kurt had shut him out completely. He wouldn't go as far to say that they had been best friends—it had been more like the only other option type of situation to be honest—but maybe they had been slowly but surely getting to that point. Despite being so different from one another, they both had the stigma of being outsiders in Banshee even though they had grown up here. Maybe that had been the reason Billy had needed an excuse to approach him. But then everything had changed after one horrible night, and their… friendship had ended. Looking back, it had been a mistake, anyway. The guy was a Nazi-cop. Billy couldn't invite someone that looked like him over for drinks, not around his kids. Even if he had thought about it multiple times…

Anyway, that was all in the past now, and Billy wouldn't delve on it further. Still, it was bizarre seeing Kurt at all, especially during this time. Holding back a grumble, Billy slowly made his way back over to his desk. Kurt didn't acknowledge his presence at all, per the norm, even though his desk was right next to his. He continued to stare blankly down at his own desk, a deep frown in his features. Even with the lack of communication the past two years, Billy could still read Kurt like an open book. Something had happened to him. Recently. And it had him out of sorts. Not that he should care, or that it was any of his business, but… the curiosity stabbed him, and Billy could tell that it would fester. It would be an annoying, prickling curiosity that would bubble up over the next few days. He just knew it. So, against his better judgment, Billy set down his cup of coffee and completely faced Kurt's desk.

"…" He clenched his jaw before clearing his throat. "Hey, Bunker!" Billy called out to him. It took several beats, but the tattooed man eventually looked up, stoic eyes focusing. Billy cleared his throat again, and then took a cautious step forward. "You… You doing okay?" Kurt stared at him, several expressions flashing across his features. Incredulity had been one of them. He supposed it had been odd for him to speak to him out of the blue after so long. And a direct question at that. The seconds went by, and Billy began to scold himself for letting his curiosity get the better of him.

"No…" the unexpected reply caused Billy to furrow his brow. Kurt looked away for a few seconds before returning his gaze. He frowned, visibly now. "No." The repeat only confirmed Billy's suspicions. Something big had happened, and Kurt obviously didn't know how to deal with it. Years of lack of communication, and _now_ he chose to be candid. Stifling a bit of irritation, Billy pressed his lips together, giving his coworker a quick examination. He looked like crap. There were dark bags under his eyes. It appeared tired, physically exhausted—like he hadn't slept at all. His uniform also hadn't been ironed. Maybe things had changed in the past two years for Kurt, but Billy had known how proud the man was of the uniform, and so the wrinkles had come as a shock.

"So what happened…?"

0-0

Taking a deep breath, Gordon Hopewell lowered the newspaper in his hands. There had been a knock, disturbing his quiet Sunday afternoon. Carrie and the kids wouldn't be back until around nightfall, and he hadn't been expecting company at all. Not on the most peaceful day of his week. For more than a few seconds, he contemplated not getting up from his favorite chair. However, the ringing came again. A sigh left his mouth as he set the open newspaper on the glass coffee table. He stood up with a slight stretch, and then headed towards the door. The doorbell rang again just as he put his hand on the knob. He idly wondered who could be coming to visit. Maybe the Sheriff? The man had gotten into an annoying habit of popping up randomly to rant about the District Attorney as though Gordon being the Mayor had any control over which cases were dropped. Mostly, though, it was to visit Deva.

Gordon opened the door, and then proceeded to stare in utter shock. Out of all the people he might have thought of, this was the last face he expected to see. Alison Medding stood on his porch with a tentative smile. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a few strands framing her face. With black jeans and a light blue buttoned shirt, longs sleeved rolled up, and dark flats, it was the most casual he had seen her, but it was definitely Alison. After two years, she had appeared, without any type of warning. He must have stood there in stunned silence for a little more than necessary because she cleared her throat, glancing elsewhere.

"Are you going to make this awkward, Gordon?" she questioned.

The Mayor blinked, and then shook his head. "Sorry," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "It's just… really surprising to see you again." Alison bit her lower lip, dropping her gaze to the ground. With a start, Gordon realized he was being rude. He cleared his throat, gaining her attention again. "Come in, come in," he urged, opening the door wider. Alison dipped her chin before walking forward into the house. Gordon shut the door and followed his… friend into the living room. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing towards the couch as he sat down in his chair. "How have you been?" He raised both eyebrows. " _Where_ have you been? What have you been doing this whole time?"

Alison sighed softly. "I've been good, Gordon—thanks," she replied. She didn't speak again for several seconds. "Until recently, I've been living with Lena a few towns over. I worked in a small law firm."

"And now you're back?"

"Yes, I've been back since yesterday," Alison stated. She clasped her fingers together in her lap. "I'm sorry for coming to see you without calling."

"No, it's good to see you," Gordon protested. "You look great." She gave him a slight smile in thanks, and he found himself returning it. Despite her confusing departure two years ago, they could still maintain a friendly atmosphere. "So how are things? You moved back, so you're not working at a law firm anymore?"

"No, honestly, I was hoping to get hired on at the District Attorney's office," she stated. "I have an interview tomorrow, actually."

"Oh? Well, I hope you get it. The DA's office could use a cracking whip," Gordon muttered. Alison furrowed her brow. Of course, she wouldn't know the current state of affairs. "Recently, the DA has been very lenient towards violent offenders. There rarely make it to court, and when they do, charges are dropped, evidence is thrown out, or they are let off the hook with minimal sentencing. It's a mess."

"What's the nature of their offenses?" Alison asked, curious. "Are the police force not doing their jobs properly?"

"You'd think they weren't, but they _are_ ," he insisted. "If you do get hired, Alison, good luck. There's no way something shady isn't going on there." She made a noncommittal hum. "But enough about that for now." Honestly, Gordon did not want to talk about the indirect problem he had to deal with on a daily basis. Not on Sunday. "What's been going on with you? Are you finally going to tell me why you up and left? I mean, I found out later _after_ your resignation that you had moved." Alison tilted her head to the side, looking elsewhere for a moment. Then she let out a soft sigh.

"That wasn't fair to you," she said. "I'm sorry. But I didn't know what else do except leave."

"Are you going to tell me why?" Gordon asked. After a long pause, Alison finally told him the exact reason she had left Banshee. As her friend, he could only stare, completely taken aback. But now, it had all made sense. The Alison Medding he knew wouldn't just take off at the first sign of danger. However, considering the circumstance, he could see why she had felt like there hadn't been a choice. Gordon frowned as his brain finally began thinking critically about the situation. "That night… I heard a little about what happened. Were you there with him? Did they see you?"

"No," Alison stated. "I was there, but I left to take a… business call. I wasn't seen. But what I did to some of the monsters responsible in retaliation probably put me on their radar, so… I left."

" _Jesus_ , Alison…" Gordon sighed out. He roughly rubbed his chin. She, herself, had told him a few years ago that she had loved the guy, but hearing something like that… _Jesus_. "So why now? Why come back?"

"I figured two years was enough time for the memories to fade," she said. "That I wouldn't have to fear the consequences for what I did. Everything's changed so much since the last time I was here, so it shouldn't be a problem for me to just become another face in the crowd." Gordon nodded his head in agreement. Alison stared down at her hands. "Honestly, I would have stayed away longer, but I realized I needed to come home, and now that I'm here, I guess the need is more than I thought." She sighed softly before rubbing at her thighs. "Anyway, how have you been, Gordon? Where's Carrie and the kids?"

"Oh, we bought a fixer-upper a few months ago," Gordon told her. "They go and… well, fix it every Sunday. Sometimes, I go, but it's more Carrie's project. It's a little far from town, so there's virtually no distractions. Gives her something to do."

"Other than stealing, you mean?"

"Hey…!" he protested, half-heartedly. Alison merely smirked and arched a brow. Chuckling, Gordon shook his head. "I'm good, too, by the way. I've got one more year of office, and hopefully I'm not expected to go for another term."

"I thought you loved being Mayor," Alison remarked.

"It's a hassle, and so much paperwork," he replied. "I'd rather go back to prosecuting. And with the way the new DA is handling things, it'll be a bit of relief to get my old job back. Now that you're here, maybe we can take Proctor out now."

"Proctor… He's not my priority anymore," she admitted.

"Right. Of course," Gordon said. "But Alison… You know you can only hold the devil back for so long." She frowned and nodded her head in agreement. Eventually, Proctor would come for her. She had told him the reason she had had to change her cell phone number before she had left Banshee. Proctor had been relentless in trying to speak with her. Because of that, no one else had had the means of communicating with her either.

Gordon sighed, giving Alison a quick examination, and noting the familiar subtle changes. Being away for so long, of course her priorities would have changed by now, though. Hell, maybe this position she was applying for hadn't been for Assistant District Attorney. She had been working as a simple lawyer these past two years, after all. Maybe she had become content with an easy way making a living. It would not surprise him at all.

"So when are you going to invite me over to your new place?" Gordon asked, attempting to change the subject.

She opened her mouth to answered, slight grin forming, but before she could voice her response, a sudden chime sounded, completely distracting her. Alison shifted a bit, reaching for the cell phone in the back pocket of her jeans. She glanced at the screen, and then let out a small huff. "I hate to cut this short," she began, standing up from the couch. "But Lena's already at the house, so I have to go." Pocketing her phone, she smiled. Gordon stood from his chair, returning the smile. "I hope we can catch up soon."

"Yeah, that sounds nice," he said as they began walking towards the door. "My number's still the same if you want to text me your new address."

"Sounds good," Alison said. She opened the door, and Gordon chose to walk her out. She halted and turned to face him after descending down the stone steps. "It was good seeing you, too." Gordon lifted his hand in a wave, and Alison's smile widened just a bit. She turned again, moving quickly towards the car parked on the other side of the street. Her vehicle was still the same. He fleetingly pondered if she still owned that motorcycle. A shame, if she didn't, but he couldn't really see her driving it around anymore.

Gordon watched her go, holding back a sigh until he could no longer see her vehicle. Two years gone without explanation, and now she had suddenly decided to come back. Only to drop a bombshell. He shook his head. Unbelievable. He wasn't as though he couldn't understand why Alison had done what she had. He would have done the same. He _had_ done the same for Carrie. Still, his friend, who had had thought he knew, had went and done something completely foolish. If anyone—any scum—put two and two together… _Jesus_. He hoped that two years had been enough time. For the sake of everyone involved.

0-0

 _Tap, tap, tap_ …

Kurt's fingers drummed against the side of his mug of coffee. Sitting in a diner, close to the station, and he still hadn't been able to focus. Hadn't been able to focus all morning, actually. No matter how many times he had attempted any sort of meditation, he had failed. Whether it had been sitting calmly in one place, reading, or cooking, he just had not been able to clear his mind. Food had been burned. Books had been thrown. His night had been full of tossing and turning, too, and no amount of scolding himself had made the thoughts leave his brain.

Alison Medding had returned to Banshee. Or maybe, she had never left in the first place. No, that couldn't have been the case. Kurt had searched this whole town when he had been discharged from the hospital. Although, he hadn't been fully recovered at the time, he had been certain that she had left. She had utterly disappeared, and had left nothing behind. She had packed her belongings, had quit her job, and had abandoned her house. She had abandoned _him_. Now, two years later, she had just shown up out of the blue.

Sighing, Kurt halted the drumming of his fingers and gripped the sides with both hands. He, of course, had denied it when he had crawled out of bed. It wouldn't have been the first time he had had such a vivid dream. But there had been no denying the marks left behind by her mouth. Or the lingering scent of her. Christ. She had really come back, and had immediately twisted his… everything. He had been fine beforehand, but she had selfishly thrown out any semblance of ease. Only discomfort remained. Already, her presence had hijacked his life, which caused him to arrive to work earlier than normal with an empty stomach. _Why_ had she come back after all this time? Now, he was waiting to spill his guts to the one person in Banshee that he could.

Deputy Billy Raven. His coworker sat on the opposite side of him. It had been his suggestion for the two of them to find some place relatively private to talk. Since he had been waiting to clock out, and Kurt had arrived too early for the start of his shift, it had been agreed that they would meet here, a block down from the station. This place was basically catered to the police force with it being so close. Kurt silently sighed, loosening his grip on the mug. Billy continued to sit there, patiently waiting. That had been a wonder. The man he had known would have started asking questions in rapid succession right about now. Then again, Kurt hadn't had a real conversation with Billy in years.

It had a been a shock that he would even call out to him after so long—let alone asking about Kurt's state of mind. Somehow, Billy had seen the quiet frustration. Somehow, Kurt hadn't been able to stop himself from answering truthfully. Seeing Alison again had been so unexpected and had left him staggered. So much so that he hadn't hesitated to admit how fucked up he was because of her abrupt return. To a man he had barely seen since they had relocated downtown. Christ. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Bunker," Billy began. Maybe he had seen the wariness creep across his face, and interpreted that as an inclination of fleeing. Maybe it was. "I know we have our differences, or… whatever, but…" He sighed heavily. "Look, I haven't seen you this… torn up since…" He trailed off, but the subject matter was clear. Billy Raven was someone who knew how Alison could affect Kurt. "Is it her…?" _The woman with the cell phone_ , he had taken to calling her. That had been the only thing Billy had known about her. Maybe eventually Kurt would have told him more, but-

Images flashed through his mind then. Of that night. His hand reflexively went to his chest, palm pressed lightly against where the scorch skin was. "She left while I was in the hospital," Kurt stated. "I had no idea until I went looking for her. She had packed her things and just… disappeared. Without a word. I looked for her for a long time. I should have been resting, but I didn't. Eventually, though, I stopped looking. Her cell phone number was disconnected and so was her landline. I had no way of contacting her, so she obviously didn't want to be found."

"So you don't know _why_ she left?" Billy questioned.

Kurt breathed deeply through his nose. Of course he knew why, and he couldn't blame her for it. Not really. He could rage and he could feel the hurt—and he _had_ so intensely—but he understood her reaction. Calvin's retaliation for just a few words had been swift. Neither one of them had been expecting it. For months, he had lived with a fear that his brother would come for him again. Alison must have gotten that fear, too, and had decided not to stay. How she had managed to slip out from under their noses, he hadn't been able to imagine, but it must have been by a hair. Obviously, she had decided that he hadn't been worth the trouble. She had decided he hadn't been worth a goodbye.

"She left because she didn't want to get involved—it became too real for her," Kurt muttered. He found his fingers curled around the mug again. Again, he didn't blame Alison for her reaction. He understood the fear that the Brotherhood could instill in a person. But… She had told him that she would be supportive of his actions. He hadn't thought one—albeit, huge—mishap would cause her to run. It had hurt because in the end, she hadn't felt as strongly as he had. "The reason doesn't really matter, anyway. She left, and I… I got over her."

"Then…?" Billy prompted.

"Then I saw her. Last night. At the store." Kurt squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, remembering how she had stolen his breath in more ways than one. "She kissed me." Billy's eyes widened. Kurt looked down at the table. There had been a roaring in his head the moment he had seen her. Then when her lips touched his, it had become silent, and he had known peace. He hadn't known he had been at war inside himself until she welcomed him back. Christ. In an instant, she turned all of the years separated into only days. Kurt didn't understand _why_. She had left him. She couldn't just… She didn't have the right to just come back years later and disrupt everything as though he had been waiting for her this whole time.

"She kissed you…" Billy murmured. "Okay, that actually makes sense." Kurt sharply looked back up at his coworker, completely baffled by his speculation. "Even if she couldn't handle how things had gone down, obviously she wouldn't abruptly stop having feelings for you."

"Obviously?" Kurt repeated.

"Yeah… I met her—the woman with the cell phone," Billy confessed. Kurt could only stare in stunned silence. "She's the one who found you. She-" He lowered his voice. "The DA—Alison—was still at the hospital when I arrived that night. She was there every time I went to see you."

"What? No she wasn't," Kurt protested. "Nobody told me anything."

"Why would they? Unless you asked?"

"… No." He hadn't asked. The gaggle of nurses who had taken turns in caring for him had been completely put off by his presence, though they had still done their jobs. There hadn't been any small talk or gossiping going on. He had looked at the visitor list. No one had visited him, except the Sheriff, and that visit had happened just days before his release. He had thought no one cared enough to see him. In a way, he had expected it, but he had still felt disappointed. It had been one of the reasons Kurt hadn't attempted to speak with Billy afterwards. It had probably been the main reason. He had believed that his coworker had simply been his coworker. Nothing more. And now to hear that Billy had visited, along with Alison, it shook his outlook. This whole time, he had been bitter about it.

"Anyway, I don't have the whole story on why she left, but it was clear to me that she cared about you a lot," Billy continued, not responding to the onslaught of confusion on Kurt's face. "So maybe in her mind, or heart, or whatever…" Billy rubbed the side of his neck, seemingly uncomfortable. "You two didn't exactly end when she left—just stopped for a little while." Kurt grit his teeth, shifting his eyes away. "What did she say last night?"

"There wasn't much talking," he said. Billy gasped as though scandalized. Kurt had a hard time not rolling his eyes. Fleetingly, he was glad for the familiar back and forth. "That's not what I meant." Although, if he hadn't come back to his senses, their sudden reunion would have become a little bit more inappropriate. "I left. I just left her there. I didn't know what to do. I still don't know what to do." Despite the new information, it hadn't changed the fact that she had left. She had left without any type of goodbye. And now she just expected them to pick up right where they had left off? Had that been what that kiss meant?

"Do you know what you _want_?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, whatever her reason, Alison left without giving you a chance to do anything about it," Billy explained. "You didn't get to agree, or deny, or argue, or ask questions. Basically, she didn't give you any type of closure. It wasn't a clean breakup. It wasn't a break up at all, really. She left you here, waiting. Even if you weren't aware of it, you were waiting, and now that waiting is over. So the question is… What do you want to do now?"

"I don't…" Kurt shook his head. "I don't know." He had been fine. Until this moment, anyway, he had thought he had been fine. He had recovered to the point of moving, going back to work, and forming a relationship with his nephew. He hadn't needed anything else. He hadn't wanted anything else after he had resigned himself to never seeing her again. But now she had resurfaced, and the _want_ had resurfaced, too. Still, Kurt didn't exactly know what that want was.

"Okay, clearly you want answers. Maybe that's all you want. Or maybe, you want more," Billy mentioned. "Maybe an easier question is… Do you want closure, or do you want a continuation?"

Even hours later, Kurt couldn't come up with a solid answer.

* * *

It bothered me a lot that Billy Raven's character was written out the way it was. I mean, this could be my brain not remembering properly, but I distinctly remember the guy saying that he "had" to get his family off the reservation. Like it was a _must_ type of situation. So to find out in season four that he put his family back on the reservation didn't make any sense to me. I wish they would have went over a little bit more with his departure, maybe show the reason he went back, or something. But no. All I got was a _sentence_. Ugh. In this story, Billy Raven is here to stay.

You know who's not here to stay? Declan. Screw that guy. I imagine you don't even know who I'm talking about by name only. He had balls in his head to make it look like he had horns. I think they were golf balls... Yeah, screw that guy. Lackluster, he was. Spoiler alert, the main antagonist of this story is the Brotherhood, as they were _supposed_ to be in season 4. I mean, I could be wrong... but I thought they had been built up in the 3rd season to be the main bad guys of the next. No. We got stuck with a guy with _balls_ in his head. Ugh. I have many issues with season 4.

Anyway, I'm hoping things will pick up in the next chapter. :D


	18. Parried Without Question

Alison would have sighed in relief the moment it had been determined that she would become the newest Assistant District Attorney. However, she was still in the presence of the staff of the DA's office. The secretary was in the process of taking her on a tour of the facility, showing her the different rooms and introducing her to coworkers that she would begin seeing on the daily basis, starting next week. The timeframe of when she actually started worked in her favor, actually. It gave her plenty of time to plan. For now, though, she smiled politely, memorizing names with faces.

The DA's office was different than what she had left behind. Like everything in Banshee, it had relocated. The building was bigger and nicer. Alison supposed it had to be. There was more than just three people working at the DA's office now. Currently, there were four ADAs. She would be number five come next Monday. Of course, there was the actual DA as well, but she had yet to meet him. There was an administrative staff. A payroll staff. And an HR department. Two years ago, one person had been in charge of all those roles. Two years ago, it had only been herself and a somewhat incompetent Assistant District Attorney. They had worked closely with City Hall, though, so workload had never been a substantial problem. Now, it seemed as though the workload had gotten larger in the two years she had been gone.

"And this will be your office," the secretary stated kindly as she pushed open a glass door. All of the offices were separated by thick decorative glass. The crinkled glass was enough to give privacy, but silhouettes could be made out as well. Alison crossed her arms as she moved into the office. The room hadn't been furbished yet. There were no desk or chair, bookcases, or file cabinets. "Of course, we were expecting an interview, Ms. Medding, but we had no idea how quickly you would be hired on. Your records must be _impeccable_!" Alison smiled lightly, but chose not to comment.

Honestly, she hadn't recognized any of the staff here. Even that incompetent ADA had apparently moved on from the DA's office. In a way, it left her feeling a bit wistful. So much change. It would seem that her time as District Attorney had been forgotten, too. Even the hiring manager had been surprised by her background. Alison gaze continued to move about the room, already visualizing where she would put things. While she hadn't been the District Attorney for long before up and resigning, she had believed she had put enough criminals away to be, at least, partially acknowledged for the hard work she had put in. Still, there was some good in it. It meant she could stay below the radar until necessary. Maybe it wouldn't be necessary.

"It's nice, isn't it?" A new voice caused Alison to shift her eyes from the window. Arms still crossed over her chest, she turned towards the door. Standing next to the secretary was an unfamiliar face. He was tall with short dark hair and a fair complexion. His eyes were light in color and pretended to study the room. With his hands in the pockets of his dark blue suit, he appeared entirely nonchalant. But there was something familiar in his eye. Couldn't tell what it was, though. Not yet, at least. Alison chose not to respond. Because of that, the man finally settled his line of sight on her. "Your new office," he clarified. "You are the new Assistant District Attorney, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mr. Franklin," the secretary spoke for her. "This is Alison Medding. She was hired today, and will be starting next week." The petite woman remained close to the door as this Mr. Franklin took a few steps towards Alison. "Ms. Medding, this is our District Attorney, Mark Franklin." The man removed his hands from his pockets, and then raised his right, extending it in her direction.

"It's a pleasure," he greeted, giving a smile. _Ah_ , the DA that Gordon had complained about. Alison uncrossed her arms and extended her left hand. The ensuing handshake was brief, and firm. "I've heard many things about you. Well, your time as District Attorney. You did good work before you quietly resigned."

"Thank you, DA Franklin," Alison replied. "You can expect the same level of good work despite being lower in rank."

" _Hm_ …" For a few seconds he stared at her, unreadable expression on his face. Then he smiled again, turning his head to the side. "Brenda, could you excuse us? I want to speak with the new ADA in private." The woman immediately nodded his head and took her leave, closing the door behind her. Alison idly wondered if the room was soundproof as she watched the secretary blurred silhouette until it was out of sight. She returned her gaze to the DA, wondering why he wanted to speak to her alone. Technically, she wasn't on the clock yet. Mark cleared his throat, returning his attention to her. "Actually, you've been… impressive with the number of cases you win since the beginning of your career."

"I only do my job," Alison stated. "Is that so interesting?"

"I'm gonna level with you, Alison," Mark said. "I came to this town, not expecting to fill such big shoes. I mean, Banshee isn't exactly an on the map sorta town." For the sake of this man being her superior in terms of staff, Alison decided to ignore the slight dig at her hometown. "When I first started, I was constantly compared to you, so I wanted to find out more. I went all the way back to some of your first cases. You are… brilliant. There's no denying it."

"Well, thank you for the compliment," Alison said, still unsure why she was having his discussion. The hiring manager had already gushed about her skills during the interview. Alison bit her lower lip, eyes searching for a clock. The interview had last longer than anticipated. She needed to leave soon, or Lena's generosity might begin to fade. Alison had been asking too much of best friend for two years now. Moving back to Banshee should have been the end of that prolonged asking, and yet, here she was, being held up by a man that wasn't even her boss just yet. Technically. "You do this for all your new hires?"

"No, not really," Mark answered with a slight chuckle. "But you are an exception. Come on, you must know that."

"You don't have to treat me differently," Alison told him.

"I think I do," he said. Alison's eyebrow jerked. She had heard the subtle shift in his tone. It had gone from easygoing to serious. "Or, at the very least, inform you." She remained quiet, waiting for his elaboration. "See, I noticed a bit of a pattern with your earlier cases. Well, the majority, actually. The majority of your earlier cases dealt with those of a… unfortunate mindset." Alison nearly scoffed in utter bafflement. Unfortunate mindset. In all her years, she had never come across such a term given to _monsters_. She slowly licked her lips and crossed her arms, forcing herself to swallow words. Mark had yet to explain why her earlier cases needed to be mentioned. "Banshee has a bit of a problem with these guys. The police department has made a lot of arrests to the members of the Brotherhood."

"The Brotherhood…?" Alison managed to repeat despite feeling as though her throat was constricting. "They're… still around?"

"Yeah, they are," Mark confirmed, unknowingly making her feel sick. "They've gotten bolder in their actions recently." He shook his head, seemingly annoyed. Alison clenched her teeth, looking towards the floor. Two years and they were _more_ active? Why? They shouldn't- "Now, I know that you might want to go after them, considering your history, but I want to say that they're _my_ problem now." Alison looked back up, furrowing her brow. The churning in her gut quelled just a bit only due to the confusion his words had brought. "I'll handle any and all cases that deals with them."

"What?" she blurted.

"I already have a way of doing things around here," Mark stated. "I would hate for someone to come in and… stir the pot, so to speak. All my hard work—I don't want it to be disturbed in any way. You can understand that, can't you?" Alison didn't answer. She did, however, understand. She had spent many days and sleepless nights, trying so hard to put away as many monsters that she could. She had done that all by herself, and had not wanted help. It had been something like her white whale, and now apparently, it was now Mark Franklin's. But it shouldn't have been. The Brotherhood had been supposed to _disappear_. "I can handle the Brotherhood. Leave them to me, Alison, and you'll be fine with your own workload. Do you understand me?"

He was telling her, in a roundabout way, to back off. Don't think about touching anyone having to do with the Brotherhood. That, coupled with Gordon's previous words to her about the DA, didn't exactly sit well with her. It wasn't even her first day, and yet she was already being warned not to look too closely at cases involving those with… an unfortunate mindset. Alison took a deep breath before smiling pleasantly at the current District Attorney. "Yes. I understand perfectly," she told him. "I look forward to seeing your hard work. I'm sure it will be a pleasure, DA Franklin."

"Great…!" Mark said, smile returning. "Guess I'll see you next Monday then."

"Yes, of course. Bright and early," she replied. Mark nodded his head, and then turned to open the door. Without another word, he left her in the office. Alison continued to smile until the DA was out of sight. She then sharply turned away from the door and stepped closer to the window. In the same motion, she slipped her purse's straps from her shoulder and went digging for her cell phone. Finding it, she pulled the cell phone out and immediately unlocked it, still managing to smile at the lock screen. Huffing, she went to her call history and tapped for her best friend. The line rang several times before she received a greeting. "Lena, hi," she said, recognizing that her voice sounded rushed.

"Where are you? Was this interview supposed to last so long?" Lena questioned, annoyance slipping into her tone.

"I got the job, and they wanted me to have a look at the office," Alison stated.

"Well, are you on your way back?"

"… Not exactly," she replied. "I think I need a few more hours to-"

"A few more hours?!" Lena cut in. "My flight _leaves_ in a few more hours, Ali!"

"Keep your voice down!" Alison hissed.

"Oh, _relax_ , its fine," Lena retorted nonchalantly. Then she sighed heavily. "Why do you need a few more hours?"

"Because I just… have a suspicion, and I can't do anything about it tomorrow or later this week. I'll be obligated to the DA's office next week, so it needs to be… confirmed now," Alison explained.

"I thought you said you were going to keep your head down," Lena reminded her.

Alison shifted her head, eyes focusing on the glass that separated her new office from the rest of the building. There didn't seem to be anyone around, but she lowered her voice anyway. "That was the plan before I found out that my boss might be on someone else's payroll," she whispered. "I can't do my job properly if I'm going to be stopped at every turn." She could nearly hear the eye roll from her best friend. "This is important, Lena. Just… Just one more hour, and I'll be home. I promise. I just need to get a confirmation. I need to know what exactly I'm about to walk into. This isn't just about me, Lena."

"Fine, fine. You're lucky I love you," Lena drawled out.

"I love you, too," Alison said, feeling a real smile form. "I'll talk to you later." Her best friend agreed, and then ended the call. Alison slipped her cell phone back into her purse, and then crossed the office space to get to the door. Quickly, she made her way to the entrance, honing in on the front desk. The secretary, Brenda, was behind the desk, typing away at a computer. Upon seeing her, the woman stood up. "Hi, Brenda, can I ask you a quick question before I go?"

"Yes, ma'am," she seemed enthused.

"Can you tell me if… the Sheriff's department has relocated as well in the last two years?"

0-0

Rebecca Bowman narrowed her eyes at the computer screen. She had been staring at the information for over fifteen minutes now. Sitting in the back office of her business, she ignored the muffled music from the front area. At the moment, she had to decide whether this tidbit of information was worth the effort of pushing one of her girls. She relaxed in her chair, releasing a slow sigh. On one hand, she could use this for other more important things… eventually. On the other hand, the source hadn't had a slip of the tongue. Most of her clients gave information away accidently, so unaware of what she could do with words. However, this certain senator had come directly to her.

Of course, there were those who willingly provided information in exchange for silence, but this did not seem to be the case this time around. Rebecca lightly tapped her red lips as she continued to think. Honestly, it didn't normally take so long to reach a decision regarding information. She had gotten quite good at reacting in just the right way. Any information that could help her uncle was obviously important, and this piece of information revolved around him. However, she wasn't too certain that this particular thing could help or hinder. And she absolutely did not want to use one of her girls in a particularly dangerous situation, all to obtain more facts. This information came without an obvious use of blackmail, after all.

Suddenly, there was a knock to the door, disrupting her thoughts completely. Rebecca shifted her gaze from the screen to the black door. Taking in a short breath, she saved the information, and shut down the program. Then she ejected the flash drive from the computer before removing it from the laptop. Quickly, she attached the flash drive to her necklace. It was in the shape of a silver heart, covered with pink jewels. Her secrets were hiding in plain sight—an idea that had come about while talking to one of her girls. Victoria, her name was, with her stage name being Queen. There was also a hard copy, tucked away in her own home. Good to have just in case someone discovered what exactly her necklace contained and attempted to steal it. Fortunately, though, that would never happen.

Clearing her throat, Rebecca told the one at her door to come in. She already knew who the knocks belonged to before the door opened. There was only one that would not resort to knocking a second time. "Burton, what can I do for you?" she questioned, corners of her lips tugging upward. She clasped her fingers together on the desk and leaned forward. Per usual, he stared back dispassionately. The stoic man happened to be the reason that no one would attempt to steal the flash drive from her. If they were clever enough to realize, they would have to get past Clay Burton, and only fools would even think to try.

Over the years, her uncle had gifted her with the man to assist her with running the three businesses. Yes, he still went to her uncle's side on occasion, but more often than not, Burton was very nearly her shadow. Running three _Savoy's_ was a bit taxing by oneself, especially since the clubs were just the front. Especially after her uncle had given her a house to herself. The arrangement was convenient. Somehow, Rebecca had gotten used to sleeping with him, and found herself unable to fall asleep without him by her side. Of course, there were nights she would send him away for more of a… pleasurable bed partner, but most nights she coaxed him into her bed. Granted, she still wasn't quite sure if Burton actually slept through the night. Her uncle still had no idea about the sleeping arrangements, and Rebecca certainly did not want him to find out what she had been doing with her borrowed guardian.

Instead of vocally answering, Burton stepped to the side, opening the door wider. Both he and one of her girls entered her office and shut the door behind them. Rebecca recognized her as Mindy—a mother of two. She had found Mindy, living on the streets, servicing for her pimp. After taking care of him, Mindy had become grateful and had willingly come with her. That had been last year, and now she appeared almost like a different woman. She walked with confidence and was absolutely loyal. She, of course, wasn't the only one. Rebecca lost her smile, propping her head up with knuckles, and elbow against the desk. Mindy bowed in respect, a mannerism that had lingered from her Asian heritage. She was a favorite among many of her clients. She normally brought in tons of money and information.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, madam," she said. "But I have learned something that I thought you might want to know." Rebecca nodded her head, gesturing for the woman to continue. "It's about the District Attorney." Rebecca tried to keep the scowl from her face. However, she could not stop the eye roll. What did that sniveling fool do this time? She saw his purpose. She truly did, but some days she just wanted Burton to take care of him. She had made the mistake of sleeping with him when he first came to town, not knowing his profession. It had, in the end, turned out well because she had used that to blackmail him, but the man had some grand notion that he would have a second chance with her. Men.

"I believe I told you all that any attempt the DA makes in talking to me is to be parried without question," Rebecca stated.

"Yes, madam, we all understand," Mindy said. "My apologies. I meant the _former_ District Attorney." Rebecca stiffened in surprise. "One of my clients, who works at the DA's office, told me that he recognized the name."

"What about her?" Rebecca asked, tersely as she stood up.

"She had an interview today for Assistant District Attorney," Mindy explained. "From the way he… complained, it appears that she was instantly hired due to her background."

"Of course she was," Rebecca sighed out. She then took in a deep breath before waving Mindy off. "Leave us." The woman bowed her head, and then left the office, shutting the door on her way out. Rebecca shut her eyes, placing her palms on the desk. She had put out… feelers for information regarding Alison Medding. That woman had abruptly left Banshee two years ago, but it hadn't been too big of a problem to watch out for her return just in case she decided to go back on their deal. Now, she had come back and in the position of an ADA as well. That could mean a number things. Maybe she should have paid more attention to her whereabouts outside of Banshee.

"What would you have me do?" Burton asked. Rebecca opened her eyes and focused on the stoic man. They both knew the potential threat the former District Attorney could pose for Kai Proctor. Someone like her, and the Sheriff, could crumble the empire he worked so hard to build. Not to mention her uncle's bizarre obligation to the woman that could put him away for good. Still, they had had a deal. Would she seriously go back on that deal? She hadn't seemed the type to do that. Still, that was something that Rebecca did not want to risk.

"Nothing for now," she replied. "She knows your face. I don't want her to give her a reason to look into us if that's not her intention." Rebecca moved around the desk, coming to a stop in front of Burton. In her heels, she was just about as tall as him. "Who's knows? Maybe she'll leave us be."

"It is not smart to leave her alone," Burton said.

"Yes, I know," Rebecca stated. She lifted her hands, fingers curling around the edges of his bowtie. She tilted her head to the side, matching his gaze with a smile. Burton slightly tilted his head in the other direction, curious. "I'll gather information. I'll find out where she was. What's she's been doing. And what she wants now. I'll find out her weakness. I'll find out ways to blackmail her. Then, if she attempts to put my uncle away, I'll have her. Just like everyone else in this town." Burton chose not to reply. Perhaps, over the years, he had grown accustomed to her prowess with information gathering. Or perhaps he thought she was too confident. Sometimes, it was still so hard to read him. "Now, no more pouting," she told him, dropping her hands. His face twitched in a way that told her he was refraining from rolling his eyes. "I won't let anything happen to uncle… just like _you_ won't let anything happen to uncle."

Burton said nothing more, and then meticulously wiped imaginary dust from her shoulders. Then he abruptly turned and took his leave. Once the door shut, Rebecca let out a silent sigh. She had put on a face, but honestly, she was a bit worried. Not only could Alison Medding be the biggest threat to her uncle, but she was also a woman that he had a bizarre relationship with him due to his previous relationship with her mother. Uncle Kai was a good, strong man, but he was also strangely sentimental to those who were lucky enough. They could very well be his downfall. But as she told her shadow, she wouldn't let that happen. By any means necessary.

0-0

Alison was beginning to think showing up here had been a mistake. She had been in her car for about five minutes now, just staring at the entrance to the Banshee Sheriff's Department. Well, her eyes were continuously darting around, looking for a specific vehicle. She shouldn't be, though. For all she knew, over the course of two years, he could have gotten rid of it. Alison sighed through her nose as her teeth clamped down on her lower lip. She was being ridiculous. She had come here for one reason. One person shouldn't impede that reason. Clenching her jaw, Alison uncurled her fingers from around the steering wheel. She took another deep breath before taking the key from the ignition.

Deciding to leave her purse in the car, she grabbed her wallet and left the bag in the passenger seat. Alison then moved to get out of her car, smoothing down her black pencil skirt. There didn't seem to be any personal vehicles parked in front anyway, only police cruisers. She had no way of knowing, so her only choice was to buck up and walk through those doors. And what a mighty fine building it was—leagues away from the simplicity of the CADI. Alison stared up. More than one floor. Thick reinforced glass. The police had certainly stepped their game up.

Clearing her throat, Alison shut her car door, and then made her way across the street, walking in between two cruisers to get to the entrance of the building. Glancing at her reflection, she lifted her left hand to run fingers through her hair, while her right hand gripped the handle to pull the door open. Despite her steady walk, her insides vibrated with apprehension. More and more the further she made it through the building actually. Then she saw a familiar face, causing her to calm down somewhat. She went over to the front desk and put on a smile. The woman, having noticed her walk up, put down the receiver and returned the smile.

"Alison Medding…!" she greeted, standing from her chair. "What are you doing here?"

"Alma," Alison returned. "What am I doing here? What are _you_ doing here? I heard you quit."

"Oh, I did," she answered. "I was happy with my position as an administrator at the high school. But the Sheriff came along a year ago and _begged_ me to come back—man practically got on his knees because the poor fool didn't know what he was doing. Said I'd have a big fancy desk with my name on it-" Here, she tapped a rectangular gold plate with her name scribed in black. "-and much better compensation and benefits. Plus, I just couldn't say no to those eyes." The older woman chuckled, clearly remembering with affection. "Now how about you? I heard you quit, too."

"Yes… I did," Alison replied, almost clumsily. "I had some… personal things come up in my life, so the best option was to resign." Alma had no reaction to the vague response, so that meant she had no inklings of who she had spent time with outside of work. Good. The less people who knew, the better it would be. Alma nodded her head, accepting the evasive way of answering. Working in a police station, she probably dealt with it a lot. Alison bit her lower lip, eyes glancing to the left, taking in the multiple uniforms. Not one looked familiar. She turned back to the older woman, barely containing a huff. "Speaking of the Sheriff, though, I came to see him. Is he in right now?"

"Yes, I can call him down, let him know that the former DA is here to see him," Alma said.

" _Ah_ … That'd be ADA," Alison corrected. "I was hired just this morning. It's like a meet and greet."

Alma nodded her head, and then gestured towards the chairs directly behind Alison. Obviously, she wanted her to sit while she rang up the Sheriff's office. With a nod of acknowledgment, Alison turned and headed over to the row of chairs. She sat down, keeping the heavy sigh to herself. Once again, her eyes scanned the immediate area. Still no sign of him. Perhaps he didn't work here, after all. No… That couldn't be it. It might have been two years, but giving up the profession seemed too unlikely. No, more than likely, he just wasn't here yet for his shift.

Honestly, that was good news. It stretched her nerves just thinking about another confrontation with him. Alison bit down on her lower lip. She was not mentally prepared, just as she hadn't been the first time. Swallowing, she lifted her hand. Her fingertips lightly pressed against her lips. She had been entirely foolish that night. Unprepared or not, what had happened should not have happened. So when another confrontation happened—and it definitely had to—that mistake would linger and twist the situation, leading to complications. Jesus Christ, it would be like introducing new evidence right in the middle of a trial.

Alison took a deep breath, willing those thoughts away. Now wasn't the time. She came here to confirm a suspicion so that she might begin taking steps in rectifying that suspicion. And that was a big might in and of itself. As she had told Lena, she had planned to keep her head down, stay out of big cases, and just work what she could. Apparently, Banshee had other surprises in store for her. "Alison Medding—never thought I'd see those legs again," a vaguely familiar voice caught her attention. Alison lifted her head and opened her eyes, focusing on a man in front of her. Speaking of surprises… The voice belonged to one Lucas Hood. Sure, he had traded his buzz cut in for a slightly spiked hairdo, but he was pretty much the same—boyish grin and all.

"Jesus Christ, do _not_ tell me what I think you're about to tell me," Alison said, standing from the chair.

"I'm the Sheriff. How can I help you?" he asked. That had been the exact thing she hadn't wanted to hear. Why was this guy still-? "Before you answer that question, how about we speak in my office."

"Lead the way," Alison said through a forced smile. Lucas turned, extending his arm, and Alison moved to follow him through the station. He felt the need to point out certain things as they made their way, but she couldn't even begin to care at the moment. Once they had made it up the stairs to his much larger office space and the door shut, Alison fixed a glare on him. "I didn't come here for small talk. Why are you here, _Sheriff_?"

"Good to see you, too, Alison. Why don't you have a seat?" Lucas gestured to one of the chairs as he moved to sit behind his desk. She exhaled sharply through her nose, and then took the offered seat. She placed her wallet on top of the desk. Then she crossed her arms, put one leg over the other, and stared expectedly. Lucas sighed. "Look, a lot of stuff happened when the year was up. It was a consensus that I stay in this position until Banshee was ready for a new Sheriff."

"A consensus…?" Alison almost laughed. "Between who?"

"Myself, the Mayor… and Carrie," Lucas stated. Alison scoffed. "And then after that, I guess I got comfortable. Alison, I am a good fit. I've got a good thing going here, and-"

" _Do_ you?" Alison cut in. "Because I have _two_ sources that tell me you _haven't_ been a good fit! And I've only been in town for a few days. So, _Sheriff_ , you want to explain to me why so many of your arrests are thrown out? Because from where I'm sitting, a thief is helping his buddies."

"Hey, it is _not_ like that!" Lucas protested.

"Of course it's not! You're not that stupid," Alison said. He looked rightfully offended. "I may not know you that well, Sheriff, but I know I made a good decision the last time we had a face to face conversation. Honestly, I destroyed the evidence pretty much a day after that meeting." His lips opened and closed several times. She took some sick satisfaction from that expression. "The reason I showed up here is because I had a somewhat enlightening conversation with a Mark Franklin. Apparently, this new DA and the Sheriff's department isn't being a… cohesive unit. Criminals aren't being sent to jail. They're going free before a trial can be scheduled. And even if they make it trial, those cases aren't won due to technicalities or some such nonsense. So tell me, Sheriff, where is the problem coming from. You? Or the DA's office?"

"… I see you haven't lost your charm," Lucas remarked. Alison tilted her head to the side and arched an eyebrow. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the desk. "Everything was fine until this new DA comes rolling in. At first, it wasn't noticeable, but then it started happening back to back. Now, every single one of my deputies walks on eggshells about everything. We go months without arresting anyone now, and not because everyone's become a saint."

"Is there a pattern to these situations? Is there a specific group of people that's getting away?" Alison questioned.

"Yeah, there is," Lucas stated. "There's a few outliers, but most of them come from the same… organization. Maybe you've heard of them? Calls themselves the _Brotherhood_." Alison clenched her jaw. "Every time we arrest one of these assholes, they lawyer up. The DA throws the book at us instead of who he should be throwing it at."

"Did you investigate him? Try to find something linking him?"

"Yeah, but nothing stuck. No one can find a connection between this particular asshole and the _group_ of assholes," Lucas explained. "He came from out of town, there's no increase of income anywhere… there's nothing." Alison opened her mouth to ask another question—series of questions, actually—however, there was a knock at the door. "Come in…!" Lucas called. The sound of the door opening actually caused her to turn her head. Her throat constricted at the sight of Kurt Bunker walking into the office, file in his hand and eyes on his Sheriff.

"Sir, I have-"

He stopped abruptly, eyes having had glanced at her only to do a double take. Alison stared back, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. Her mind immediately conjured up images from their first 'welcome back,' and, damn it all, she licked her lips. Hurriedly, she shifted her gaze to another side of the room, but she could still feel his eyes on her, stabbing into her skin. "Bunker, you remember Alison, don't you?" Lucas' voice broke through the haze of Saturday night. "She's here, introducing herself as the new ADA."

"Sir," Kurt murmured, stepping forward. Despite everything, Alison's posture went rigid at his proximity. He placed the file on the edge of the desk. "I just need your signature when you get the chance." Alison risked a peek, but he no longer looked her way at all. No acknowledgement whatsoever. She attempted to stifle the unwanted twinges of disappointment.

"Thanks, actually, could you bring me some more files?" Lucas asked. "About six months back, every arrest that didn't go anywhere—bring those up."

"Yes, sir," Kurt said, and then turned to leave, not sparing her a glance. Alison only relaxed again once the door shut, harder than necessary. She furrowed her brow and frowned. His cold indifference… he had some nerve. But now wasn't the time, and when the time came, she wouldn't care regardless. Lucas cleared his throat, causing Alison to focus on him. He tilted his head towards the closed door.

"Is that going to be a problem?" he questioned. For several seconds, Alison didn't respond. Over and over again, his taciturn demeanor played through her head. She had never experienced it. He had never purposely ignored her. Before, he would always seek her out—always. Except when it had counted. "I know you two have a history." Alison drew in a long breath, and then gave a tight smile.

"That's all it is— _history_ ," she stated. "There won't be a problem."

Of course, not even three minutes later, Kurt Bunker decided to make a liar out of her.

0-0

Before, he had had pretty rough days. Before Maggie, before Hank, when he had been all alone, it had been rough just getting through the day. And then… there had been worse days. Days that had gone by slowly, especially at night. On those days—nights—he had lied in bed, shaking and tense with a gun in both hands. The only way he had stopped the shakes had been thinking about her… Imagining her sliding up behind him. Wrapping her arms around his body. Pressing her cheek against his shoulder blade. It had been an illusion—a phantom of a real comfort, but it had been enough to push back the anxiety and paranoia. At least, enough for him to sleep. Now, though, thinking about her only increased the shakes. Shakes that didn't come from paranoia or anxiety. Now, it was just anger.

Kurt found himself swallowing hard as he leaned against the file cabinet. His fingers curled around the metal handle of the stop drawer, squeezing so hard that the blood fled from his knuckles. This level of red hot anger couldn't be contained with just breathing techniques. In fact, the more he tried to calm down, the more strained his breathing became. Christ. It was only the beginning of his shift. He couldn't just continue on like this. It was bad enough that people were still wary about his presence, but adding a permanent scowl wouldn't win him any points. Once again, she had appeared without warning and had turned everything inside out. Was she going to keep doing this? Appearing randomly only to leave him with more questions? More confusion?

No. No. Not this time. Kurt pried his fingers from the handle, abruptly turning away. His strides were harder than necessary as he made his way back to the stairs. He clenched his fists hard as he came to a stop at the door to the Sheriff's office. Looking inside, he saw the two of them—Hood and Alison—in the middle of a conversation. However, he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. Kurt opened the door, without knocking, and their conversation abruptly cut off. The two turned their gazes to him.

"Sir," he began, focusing on the Sheriff. "I can't find the files. Job might know."

" _Job_ …?!" Alison sharply turned back to the Sheriff, not seeing the look Kurt gave. The Sheriff, however, noticed and stared right back. Hopefully, he understood what Kurt wanted.

"… He's kinda our tech guy," Sheriff Hood stated, eyes shifting towards Alison.

"Jesus Christ," she retorted with a shake of her head. "I don't even want to know."

She grumbled something else, but it was too low for Kurt to make out. Besides, his attention was still on his boss. Sheriff Hood slowly stood up from his chair. He gave a subtle nod, and then directed his next words to Alison. He informed her that he would retrieve the files, and then quickly took his leave before she could get a word in. His Sheriff had understood, at least to the point of giving privacy. After all, he was one of the few people who had known. The door shut, leaving the two of them in silence. A tense, awkward silence. Alison chose to remain in her seat while Kurt stood stiffly, right hand clasping his left wrist in front of him. It was only when she glanced at him did he open his mouth.

"Why are you here?" Kurt asked, voice calm despite his chest feeling tight.

"… It… It doesn't concern you," Alison said, tilting her head to the side and shifting her line of sight to the opposite side of the room. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't _worry_ about it?" Kurt repeated. He grinded his teeth together. She, of course, hadn't noticed the strain of keeping his irritation in check. "You suddenly show up in my town—at _my_ job—and you say not to _worry_ about it?" Finally, she looked at him again, eyes sharpened and eyebrows raised as though she couldn't comprehend his audacity. Kurt frowned. No. This was not how it had been two years ago when he had practically worshiped her. He was not in the wrong here.

" _Your_ town? From what I hear, Banshee belongs to the _Brotherhood_ nowadays, doesn't it?" Alison retorted. Internally, he winced because on some level, though he hated to admit it, his former associates were on some type of VIP list, making it hard for anyone in that organization to do any real time. "You had your chance to take care of them, but you didn't, so, no—this _isn't_ your town. What I'm doing here doesn't concern you at all, Deputy." Hearing his title had normally had a nice ring to it. Even when people said it reluctantly, he had always gotten a sense of pride from it. But now, hearing it from her, after everything, felt like a slap in the face.

"This is my job—my _life_! You can't just show up out of nowhere!"

"I'm sorry—am I speaking a different language?" Alison questioned sarcastically as she stood up from her seat. Her fingers curled around the edge of the desk as she glared at him. "I'm not here for _you_."

Kurt flinched. Despite how far he had come, her words brought back all the pain and misery he had felt. Everything came back in waves. He had been alone and scared, and so _confused_. _I'm going to support you_ , she had told him. That had been a promise, right? But the moment he had come to, and had discovered her not there, had been the moment the promise had been broken. Even if he had aggressively denied her departure. He swallowed, but with difficulty. She had lied to him back then. The flippant way she regarded his presence now after she had decided to come back—it _hurt_. And all that pain and hurt and confusion twisted in his gut, and bubbled into resentment.

"Well, that's just perfect, isn't it?" Kurt managed to ask through clenched teeth. "You certainly weren't there for me back then either." _Back when I needed you most_ , he refused to say out loud. Alison jerked back as though he had moved to strike her. Maybe she had understood the underlying accusation. Maybe, after all this time, she could still see right through him. Kurt turned his head, eyes on the floor, not wanting to look at her stunned expression.

"I don't know why I was expecting anything different from a woman who runs at the first sign of danger." That had been a lie. He knew exactly why he had been expecting something different. She had kissed him. Billy had told him that that action had made sense. It had made no goddamn sense to him, though. Christ. He just wanted some fucking answers. He had expected answers, but she seemed so keen on not giving them.

"Excuse me?! What the _hell_ was I supposed to do?!" Hard as steel, Alison raised her voice, causing Kurt to return his gaze to her. "You were _wrong_ , Kurt! Those monsters came in and burned you—almost _killed_ you!" Her voice cracked just a bit, and she took in a shuddering breath before continuing. "Your _brother_ —someone you protected and cared for—was willing to do that to you just because of a threat! What do you think would happen if he found out about me, _huh_?"

The worst. Calvin would have done so much worse. When Kurt had gotten out of the hospital, and couldn't find Alison, he had assumed that she hadn't been lucky. He had, for hours, thought that his brother had done something to her. Until, of course, the Mayor had told him she had left town without a forwarding address.

"I was not going to go through that torture again. So, _yes_ , I ran! Banshee wasn't safe. But now, I come back two years later and find out that it's _still_ not safe!" Alison continued, nearly shouting now. "You want to talk to me about expectations?! I _expected_ them to be gone! I _expected_ you to _make them disappear_ like you said! I _expected_ Banshee to be safe people like me!"

"What?" Kurt honestly was at a loss on how to reply to that.

"You had this big plan to get rid of them all in one fell swoop, but either it never happened or you _botched_ it!" Alison continued. She shut her eyes for a moment, breathed, and then walked towards him. "You want to know why I'm here at your job…?" She stood right in front of him, nearly the same distance they had been Saturday night. Involuntarily, Kurt's eyes darted down to her lips then back up meet her gaze. "That's because you're not doing _your job_. I'm here because, apparently, I'm the only one with the motivation to see the Brotherhood fall."

Something inside snapped at those words. Before he knew it, Kurt had grabbed her forearms. Chest against chest, Alison tensed, just as much as him, but she did not falter. He breathed harshly through his nose, and yet she continued to stare, not backing down. So self-righteous. Like she couldn't understand his lack of action. Motivation…? _She_ had been his motivation. Then she had disappeared. Gone without a trace. He had thought he had lost her. In that same _fell swoop_ , he had thought he lost his friend as well. So much had happened two years ago, and it had been out of his control. He had lost his power again. He had lost his control again, and it had taken so long to get even a smidgen of that back. Maybe he had been reluctant to tangle with his brother again, but he had reasons for that.

Fear being one of them.

Depression being another.

" _Why_ are you here?" Kurt asked again. Alison opened her mouth. "No," he cut in. "Why _now_? Whether it was two years or five or ten—why are you here now if you were so convinced Banshee wasn't safe for you? Why are you back? Why did you choose now to come back and-?" He couldn't finish. The words had swelled and clogged his throat. The negative emotions were still swimming, nearly blinding all of his senses. The thrumming of his heart had grown louder with each passing second. Finally, her gaze wavered. Again, she let out a shaky breath. Kurt released her, and took several steps back. "Are you going to answer any of my questions?"

"This… This isn't the time or place," she murmured. "Like I told you, I'm not here for-"

" _Damn it, Alison_!" Kurt slammed his fist against the wall behind him. She went rigid, gasping quietly. "For fuck's sakes! You left me without warning, and now you're back without warning! I deserve to know _why_! You can't just-! Just fucking tell me!" Alison blinked several times, wetness forming in her eyes. A pang of guilt shot through him, but she only pressed her lips together. Like she didn't want to speak on the matter. " _ **Tell**_ me!" She flinched again, squeezing her eyes shut. Her mouth opened, and shouting just as loud, she gave a jaw-dropping, heart-startling, mind-blowing three worded phrase that Kurt had thought he would never get a chance to hear.

" _You're a father_!"

0-0

Boom! Mic drop...!

But not really. I have been foreshadowing that reveal for quite some time.

And yes, Rebecca will have a much larger role in this instead of just being dead. You have no idea how upset I was when I realized she had died. And who had actually killed her! It quite literally pissed me off. I just... The Banshee writers were just ridiculous in the 4th season! Argh! She deserved better than just being an excuse for man pain. I will not allow it! Stick around, if you dare.


End file.
